Read and Re-read...

For those of you who know me, you know I like to read. I always have. Growing up I was the odd kid who spent all his extra time in the local library. The public library was about two blocks from school. Often, I would get out of school, and walk to the library until my mom would call looking for me and the librarian would come tell me it was time to go home for dinner. I think I was the only kid in the world who would get into trouble for reading. One day my mom got mad and told me to get my nose out of that book and go outside and play. I replied by saying something to the effect of, most parents would be happy that their kid was reading. Not a popular response.

Now it's tough just finding the time to read. It's very cliche to say, "so many books, so little time." But it's so true. I have one bookcase that hold's recently read books and books I want to keep. Most are passed on to friends and co-workers. Then there's the unread bookcase. It's pretty full right now, and so I have to avoid going to bookstores - which is one of my favorite things to do.

Part of my problem when it comes to books is that I have serious closure issues. If I start a book, I MUST finish reading it. Even if it sucks or I find it really boring. I have books that I started reading years ago that still haunt me, begging to be finished.

Recently, I picked up a book when I was in Portland shopping at Powell's (aka the greatest bookstore in the world). I started reading it, and it seemed familiar. I thought maybe I read something else by the author that had recurring characters. But now that I'm 50 pages into it and committed to finishing it, I realize, I have read this book before. Dammit. Of course, I don't remember how it ended, so I'm stuck. I have to read it all the way through again to completion. Fortunately, it's been a good story. But not so good that I remembered buying it before.

So I guess I have to revamp that saying. So many books, so little time to read them a second time around.

Fay

The wind done gone.

Here we blow again...

Look out for Fay. She's headin' this way.

Again, the news is going to scare us to death by telling us that have a hurricane coming. Not to ignore it, but they tend to get everyone worked up into a lather long before there's a real threat. I know it's already caused damage for those in her way, but I'm not going to panic until there's a reason to.

Until then, we'll watch and wait.

The strangest dreams...

I had the strangest dream the other night. For those of you who know me, you probably know that my dreams are in vivid color and very detailed.

We were going to have dinner with Jack and Nancy, our neighbors until just couple years ago. The four of us got in their car and we start driving to this restaurant. Within a few minutes we had to turn around and go back to the house because Jack forgot something. So while we wait in the car, he finally comes out and tells us he’s not going to go with us. So the three of us start out again. Nancy is driving, and doesn’t say too much about where we’re going. We enter downtown, which looks a lot like Miami from all the tall buildings. We finally pull in and start walking to not a restaurant, but towards a really tall office building. Then Nancy tells me that it’s in this building “up a ways.” I start getting nervous, because all I see is a glass elevator on the outside of this 100 story building. As we’re waiting at the elevator, Bill has to run back to the car for something. Then Nancy tells me the restaurant is on the top floor, and it’s really nice because it’s open air, and has a beautiful view. Now I’m really kind of nervous, because I don’t like heights. So I tell her I’ll just have to face the door in the elevator. Bill comes walking back quickly from the car, but he doesn’t make it to the elevator, so he shouts that he’ll just meet us there.

Then the three of us are in the restaurant, which is really a rooftop garden. It looks very park-like. The seating area is open, but it’s closed on three sides with a roof – so I can at least pretend we’re not a million miles high. The server comes to take our order, and Nancy says that Jesus is joining us, but he’s already late, so we’ll go ahead and order. Somehow, this doesn’t sound strange in the dream at all, at it seems very normal.

We’re just about to finish our salads, when Nancy looks up and says, “Here he is.” I look up to see this man kind of half jogging towards us. He’s not the Jesus we see in pictures. He’s very tanned, has dark brown hair, kind of long, but above the shoulders. He stops at the table and apologizes for being late – work kept him longer than he expected. Oh yeah – he’s wearing a UPS uniform. That’s right. Shorts, shirt, tennis shoes… the whole “what can brown do for you?” get up. I’m really confused by this. As introductions are happening and he’s shaking hands with Bill and me, I’m thinking to myself, ‘do they know at UPS that Jesus is working there? Maybe he’s using another name and they don’t know who he really is.’ While thinking this, I figure that his name tag will answer that question. So I’m trying to casually read his name tag. But even when I get a good look at it, I the letters are all garbled, so I can’t read it. So he sits down, the server comes back and takes his order. Then I wake up. What the hell?! I really wish that I would have slept a little longer. I wonder where that story would have gone...

The Hell Phone Dilema

You just can't win. Remember when cell phones were fun? They were cool. You carried around this thing that was the size of a brick in your bag all day. You waited until you were on your way home from work to call someone because your night-time unlimited minutes started at 6pm. Then you could call anyone, anywhere. It was fantastic!

How things have changed. Now it's such an integrated part of life that it's just a given. And they have (thankfully) gotten smaller with more bells and whistles than ever - actually, whistle is just about the only thing you can't do with it.

I've been with just about all of them - AT&T, Cingular, Sprint... and honestly, none of them have been that great. Cingular had some serious deadspots. Like in the middle of downtown, mid county, my office, and home. Sprint has been pretty good - mostly. I can't seem to make a call from my house - unless I wear the earpiece and leave the phone in the window sill. It was a bumpy start with Sprint. There were a LOT of calls to their billing office, who constantly screwed things up. Two years later and I still dont' think I'm paying the right price, but it's not worth the hassle so I pay the few extra dollars and wait impatiently for the end of the contract. Well, it's finally here. This month. August. I'll be freed of their shackles. And go to... hmm... you'd think there's nowhere to go but up.

I started poking around online to see what I could learn. Mostly I learned that there are no good service providers. Just a bunch who you get to pick from who argue they are the BEST, or maybe not as bad as their competitor at most. I've heard horror stories about Verizon and their billing and (lack of) customer service that would set your blood to boil. They're off the list. And locally, I read that Altell and TMobile are neck and neck as far as service. I've pretty much settled on Altell. But then.... I'm reading more about them, and I see the word "merger." Well crap. Guess who just bought Altell? Verizon! Oh yippee. Shit. So now the company with the worst customer service just bought the company with the best working service. So you can see my dilema. Frankly, they all suck, but how do you get comfortable with something you know you will be unhappy with?

I know (or have read) that some of them will offer a "trial" period. Although, I've yet to find out exactly who has this. I just want to be able to get reception in my house. It's gonna be really ugly if I get a new service and new phone to find out that I can't make a call from home. I'm starting a little research on the iPhone. Not because I need to be one of the cool kids. Honestly, I don't use most of the features I have now. I want to take a call, make a call, and use voicemail. Beyond that, picture mail would be nice once in a while, and I like the alarm feature for those times I'm traveling. But that's pretty much it. Not sure I need email, internet, and a thousand other "apps" to take with me everywhere. I'll admit I'm a geek, but not a Geek. But I may be willing to spend the extra money for basic service that works.

Just the basics is all I really want. A phone that works. Are you listening to me, Jim from Sprint?

Hola from Miami

I in Miami with Paul this week. He's attending a conference, and I'm crashing the hotel - kind of a mini vacation. I'm working online while he's away attending the conference sessions. The hotel is incredible. It's the Fairmont Turnberry Isle right on Aventura Boulevard. Certainly the nicest I’ve ever been in. The grounds are great. The room fantastic. It has this HUGE soaking tub, which is where I’ll be spending some time later (the bathroom is about as large as our bedroom). T

We walked to find the gym… I mean… the spa (it's actually the entire third floor of the spa). It’s a nice size place – the usual large assortment of treadmills and equipment. Each treadmill, Stairmaster, and elliptical machine has its own flat screen tv on it along with headphones. Then I went in to see the “locker room” and oh-my-god. It has beautiful hardwood lockers, big white fluffy bath robes and a completely stocked vanity complete with a table in the middle of the room with a bowl of iced cucumber soaked towels ready to hit your face. And all the bath accoutrements you could imagine. And a steam room! I love that! Makes going to work out worth it all! It’s pretty incredible. I took some pics when no one was around - I didn't want to get caught taking pics in the locker room, but you can get the idea. We’re probably gonna have to sacrifice the guest room when we remodel the bathroom at home. Guests will just have to sleep in the spa on the massage table. ;)

Went to South Beach yesterday evening. Doesn't feel like it's changed much since I was last there - probably 12-13 years ago. Ate at Jason’s Deli. Had a monster salad. So did Paul. Then we walked the length of Lincoln plaza. Saw lots of cool shops (didn’t buy anything). Lots of sights to see and people to watch. I could have spent the entire week just people watching. Did see one store – can’t remember the name, but had a lot of imported asian and Indian furniture. Saw a handmade wooden chair that was really cool. It was half price, but still $170 dollars. Lots of cool pottery too, but didn’t want to carry it around while shopping. Strangely, I left without buying anything.

New Doc

Went to see a new dermatologist today. They were SO good. He checked me over, got the cold can did a few things, then commented on this wrinkle on my forehead and said, “you know if you want, a little botox would take care of that.” I think he misread the semi-shocked look on my face – he probably thought I was a little insulted. “Think about it and just let me know.” Actually I just fell in love a little bit.

Didn’t have it done, but I should have asked (I always thought it would be really $$). Besides, I’m pretty sure Aetna’s not paying for that. Maybe I can make it a mental health case… LOL!

He was so good that he was even able to remove two small skin tags on my EYE LID! Yes, he had to stick a needle in my eyelid, but he was just that good. I was so happy I nearly peed.

I don't bake.

One of my favorite geeky quotes of all time comes from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In a sisterly moment between Buffy and our favorite foreign slayer , Kendra, Buffy leans in for a hug but is stopped by Kendra who says in a very Jamaican-ish accent, "I don't hug!" Only, my version is, "I don't bake!"

It's true. I don't bake. Well, it's not so much that I "don't" bake, it's that I can't bake well. My problem is that I learned to cook from my mother. She rarely used a recipe. She always improvised. So that's what I do. The catch is that on the stove, you can do that. The oven is not so forgiving. Cooking on the stove is more of an experiment. You add things as you go along, you taste to see where it is, then you add something else to take it a little further. Baking requires planning ahead. You have to have everything in the beginning. There's no sampling. No testing. It's a one shot deal. Sit back and hope it works.

In my efforts to eat a little healthier, I've been concentrating on more "whole foods." I don't mean the store - although I love that place. A friend recently referred to them as "Whole Paycheck" because that's what it costs to shop there. By whole foods, I mean more whole grains, less processed foods - that "closer to the earth" idea. So that's what I'm doing - to a point.

One of my big weaknesses has always been bread. And not the foamy white crap. I want a thick, hearty, wheaty, grainy, dense slice of goodness. Lisa and Troy turned us on to this sprouted grain bread they found at Costco, of all places. We LOVED it. But of course, the only Costco near us doesn't carry it. I bought a loaf of Ezekiel bread which is good, but go back to that whole paycheck issue. So in a moment of brilliance, I remembered that we have a bread maker that we haven't used in a long time, or much (other than the traditional hurricane loaf - shout out to my girl in the big O R).

So after looking at a few recipes, doing a little shopping, I get everything out and start building. 4 2/3 cup of whole weat flour. Okay. I imagine I can use 2 cups of whole wheat, 1 cup of rye flour, 1 cup of graham flour (what they hell IS "graham flour" anyway), maybe a half a cup of oats, and a third of a cup of flax seed. Okay - that takes care of the flour part. The rest is pretty simple. Salt, water, brown sugar and yeast. Before I can stop myself, I'm rumaging through the cupboards looking for anything else I can throw in there. I come up with walnuts. That can't be bad. Okay - half a cup of crushed up walnuts. What else... I find another package of seeds. Pine nuts. What the hell. Toss 'em in. I still can't believe that the recipe doesn't call for egg or milk. Surely that was a misprint on the recipe book. I resist my urge and decide against it. I rummage a little longer looking for anything that sounds like something I'd like in bread, but I stop there. As I pass by the machine, watching the dough through the little window, it looks REALLY dry. I don't think it's supposed to do that. Then I realize I didn't compensate water for the added oats. So I added about another half a cup. But it was so dry it couldn't mix. I opened the door again and smashed it up by hand. The end result wasn't bad. It didn't rise well, but we had an 8 pound loaf of bread. It tasted good - but it wasn't pretty.

This morning I'm making my second attempt. I've almost left the recipe alone. I've used the same flour concoction, and added a little more water, some blueberries that were almost done, and some cinnamon. It appears to be rising. So far so good.

Well, I think it came out pretty well! It rose a little better, so it's not quite as heavy. Still not pretty, but it's tastey! I'm happy with it.

I know this won't be popular...

We all know that sometimes driving can be dangerous. We all try our best to be careful and “watch out for the other guy,” as my dad always says. And we have to. We’ve all seen people doing strange or just stupid things while driving. I’ve seen people reading newspapers or books, putting on make-up, shaving, brushing their teeth, talking on the phone or texting (that last one really pisses me off). So sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes it’s because of stupid behavior, and sometimes it’s just dumb luck accidents resulting in fender-benders, injuries or in the worst cases, someone looses a life. No, this isn’t another rant about unsafe drivers or assholes on the road.

A few years ago there was a tragic accident in St. Pete. A small child (3 or 4 I think) wandered out of the home, down the road and into a busy street. The child was hit by a car and sadly killed. As you can imagine, this was sensational news, and we were all horrified at the loss – especially since all the news channels insisted on interviewing the grief-stricken mother. They were after ratings, but it was truly heart wrenching. You couldn’t help feeling this woman’s pain. Not long afterwards, there was a small roadside memorial for the child – a simple white cross with a teddy bear. Eventually, the family moved away. I don’t know why – I imagine that seeing the place where she lost a child everyday was too much to bear. And here’s where it went wrong. The crucified teddy bear was left on the roadside for about a year. It was weathered, dirty and falling apart when someone finally took it away.

A few weeks ago, another roadside memorial appeared on the Bayway. A white cross made of PVC (presumably so that it will last forever), and a wreath of silk flowers. I understand that people need to grieve. I get that. But WHY is it that they feel they have the right to foist their grief onto the general public? I really don’t need to see it. Yes, it’s sad. I’m sorry for your loss. But I don’t need a reminder of it every morning on my way to work. And on my way home from work every day, as I begin to unwind and enjoy the scenic view of the water and trees, I get to be reminded that something bad happened here. This is the only road off the island, so avoiding it isn’t an option. I really hate that. That is why we have memorial services. That is why we have cemeteries. And chances are really good that the family and friends who endured this loss do not even live around here. The locals here do not spend their time at the roadside beach. So who the hell is this for?! I’m really tempted to pull over one of these days and pull it all up and dispose of it myself. If not, that PVC and plastic flower crap will be there for years. We do NOT need to litter our roads with your grief.

I can’t believe I’m the only one who feels this way. Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

"Diet is DIE with a T" - garfield the cat

Well, it's been two weeks since my doctor gave me the big speech. I've had to make some drastic changes - going to the gym, regular exercise and the biggest one, changing my diet. I still refuse to "go on a diet." That just doesn't work, and it sounds like failure just by the nature of it. So, in altering my diet, I decided to just concentrate more on the foods that I like that are healthy - deemphasizing those that are not so good. I like most fruits and vegetables, and "grainy" foods anyway. I'm trying to cut out processed sugars and concentrate on more whole foods. Grocery shopping sure has changed. I read labels a lot more. And I can't do the "big grocery shop" like I used to because fresh fruits & vegetables don't have the shelf life I'm used to with other things.

It hasn't been too bad so far. The only thing that has been really hard has been chips. I could live on chips and salsa. Chips and sour cream. Chips and butter. Just kidding. No chips and butter. But, I have been trying some alternatives - like different whole grain or baked chips. Some are good, some are bad. It cracks me up to read all the different suggestions from some of the magazines and sites that say things like, instead of Doritos, substitute apple slices with peanut butter. Are they for real? Have they never had Doritos? While I'm sure I would LOVE apple slices with peanut butter, it's not a substitute for the ol' nacho cheesey crunchy goodness. It's also been a little more expensive. I can't believe that it costs almost $5 for a loaf of good sprouted grain bread (and that's only gonna get worse - but that's another topic for another time). I bought a bunch of grains and whole flours and I'm breaking out the old bread maker for some experimentation. I'll keep you posted on how that goes.

Bill and I have had the argument about the cost of food. I say it's cheaper to be fat. He doesn't really believe it so much. Well, I think he's beginning to. Fresh and healthy stuff is just more expensive. I say, it's cheaper to feed a family of four for 20 bucks at McD's or Taco Hell than buying something healthy. "They can make a big salad for 20 bucks." But they're not buying salads at McDonald's. Besides, if healthy food was cheaper, then most poor (American) people wouldn't be fat. No judgment, just fact. His point is that it's cheaper in the long run because you don't have as many medical expenses. But I think most people are just too short sighted to think that far ahead when making everyday decisions.

Speaking of American diets, I had a conversation with my friend Patricia about that recently. She was talking about how in Europe, they don't pasteurize their milks and cheeses, and it doesn't seem to be a problem. Here, we load EVERYTHING with chemicals. Since I'm reading more labels, I notice that a lot more. I haven't figured out the balance, but I think if the ingredient list is too long, it's a bad sign. So, stick to the short and sweet. Well, not so much the sweet anymore. ;)

Amazing...

Happy Birthday to Me

Well, as a couple of you know, I recently received a bit of bad news. After a few doctor visits and lots of tests, I have been told that I am borderline diabetic with high blood pressure. Understand that this wasn’t a surprise. My grandmother was diabetic, and my mother has hypertension. So the writing was on the wall. My weight has always been an issue for me, even when it probably shouldn’t have been. I look back on photos of myself 10 years ago and think, wow, I wish I was that thin now. But I can assure you that even when I was “that thin” I saw myself much differently.

I come from a large family, and that’s not a headcount. Most of my family is overweight to some degree, like most people. I don’t think I was the typical “fat kid” growing up, but I always felt I was. When I was in junior high school, I had a year where I was really what I would call “skinny” – but I never knew that until years later when I looked back on old photos. Still not sure who that kid was. But, as I grew older and entered high school, my weight began to climb.

The same day that I got this diagnosis from my doctor, also happened to be the same day I had scheduled an appointment at my new gym for a total body analysis. For someone like me, this is always an emotionally delicate experience. It’s the ultimate feedback where you have to face the realities that you fear the most but know are true. I managed to hold it together and got through the assessment. Thankfully, Victor, my new wellness coach, was nothing but professional and never once did I see that secret wince that I feared.

There were a lot of emotions that day (and there still are), and mostly I was scared. Not for the reasons you might think. Not because I was told I am on the verge of a serious condition, the stress of which nearly knocked me out anyway, but because of what I didn’t feel. As I said, this wasn’t a surprise. I figured that someday, a doctor was going to give me the “lose weight or else” speech. But I always assumed that would be the incentive to make me do something about it. I would finally be forced into action. I would be ordered into life changing habits. Someone else would take control (and ultimately responsibility?). What scared me the most was that I didn’t feel this inspiration or compulsion to make the changes I need - which led to frustration, anger, and despair. My last motivational hope crumbled beneath me.

I managed to lock away the emotions for the rest of the day at work, through my appointment at the gym, and all the way home. I knew when I got home I was going to have to tell Bill, and I was not going to do this well. I love Bill more than I can tell you. I knew he would be supportive, but I knew better than to expect sympathy. And I’ll admit that maybe I needed a little pity party – just a small one. I shared this news with only a few of you, but only a little bit of info and at a safe distance. I couldn’t talk to any of you face to face. I’m feeling a little better – but not much. We talked and it was as I expected. But this works because I know he can look at it all objectively. He is being very supportive and we’re looking at the foods we both eat. And I’m trying really hard not to take my anger or frustration out on him when he makes a comment or asks a question about the food I am eating (or wanting to eat). I know he’s just trying to help. And it’s not his fault that I’m where I am now. It still doesn’t make it easy.

I still have a lot of raw emotion around this. I’m not even sure why I’m feeling compelled to write it down and share it with you in this manner. Maybe it’s easier to share it in a way that I can remain detached. Maybe this is how I need to cope. But don’t be surprised if you read this and notice that I’ve taken it down soon afterwards.

Oregon Gardens

One of the things we managed to squeeze into our trip to Oregon was to visit the Oregon Garden. It's in Silverton, a small town about an hour from Portland. It's not too far from Troy & Lisa's place up in the mountains (formerly known as Branch Ranch, soon to be renamed Morning Wood). But it's definitely worth the drive.

It was cold and rainy, about 52 degrees when we got there. I was sportin' the Oregon uniform of hiking shoes, shorts and a sweatshirt and cap. Bill dressed a little warmer in jeans and a coat. And even though it wasn't perfect weather, I'm so glad we went. Oregon gardens are very different from Florida that's for sure. I miss a lot of the things that we can't grow here successfully like hostas, lilies,

daphne, and especially Japanese lace leaf maples. I tried California poppies when we first moved here in the summer, but it wasn't successful. It was just too hot for them. Anyway, I took lots of pictures, which I won't post here, but you can view on webshots.
Additionally, I continue to be amazed at Phil and Albert's place. They have cultivated the most incredible garden at their home - something I never would have predicted. It's definitely the most beautiful in the neighborhood, and one of the nicest ones I have ever seen. Good job guys! (I was going to post this great picture they sent to me of the front yard, but I just discovered that I've apparently lost a TON of pictures on my computer. SHIT!)

Sorry about the post-post. I've been a little behind lately...

The Family Visit

The decision to visit the NW this year when we did was so that I could attend my nephew's graduation. It's hard to believe that they would allow a ten year old kid to graduate from high school. But time flies, and I guess he's not ten anymore. We drove from Molalla, Oregon to Portland, to Olympia to Elma, Washington. It's a small town about 30 minutes West of Olympia. As rushed as I felt getting there, it was a really pretty drive. The graduation was like most - a lot of talking by people I didn't know, trying to be inspirational, but really just kind of droning on and making inside jokes that only the students get. But a lot of my family was there from all over Washington and Idaho. I always have a lot of anxiety when I go to visit my family. It's not that I don't love them, I do. But I don't share their religious views, which I can see past, but they really can't (although, my mom seems to be pretty good about that). It really bothers me that I want to just visit with them, but that always seems to insert itself in some way. So, as a result, I don't see them much. And when I do, it's only briefly. (The pic is my nephew, Seth, my brother, Tom, my dad and me.) My mom said once that "family is important, in the end, it's all you got." I didn't really understand that at the time. I think she said it at some sort of family gathering surrounding a funeral, so I chalked it up to that. Family seems to get tight when they loose a member. But, maybe it's a part of getting older. We start to feel our mortality, yearning for younger days when everything felt safe. The safest place was always at home with your family. Now that I'm getting older, those days seem to be a little dream-like, maybe a little idealistic. Of course I do remember the times I was unhappy and down-right miserable too, but somehow in hindsight it seems so manageable. One thing we always hear is that we eventually turn into our parents. It horrifies all of us I know, and in the end it's true to a point. I still remember that first time I looked in the mirror and just for a second - as quickly as you could think about it - I saw my dad. Kinda freaked me out. Now I find it interesting because I see other members of my family too. Sometimes my dad, sometimes my mom, my uncle, or even my grandfather.

I've been thinking of my grandfather a lot lately. He passed away years ago. He wasn't the "climb into his lap and fall asleep" grandpa most people visualize. He was quiet, but loving. Aloof, but there. He was always a bit of a mystery to me as a kid. Not very gregarious - I don't think he liked kids much, and barely tolerated most people. That's always been my version of him. He liked to spend a lot of time gardening. They had a double lot, and the back half was all vegetables and berry gardens. He also did a lot of ornamental gardening - roses, tiger lilies, peonies... just about anything. He was an avid camper, hiker, and fisherman. He loved being in the mountains. I remember that sometimes he would come home from a long camping or fishing trip just long enough to pack up and go again. I was lucky enough to go with him once when I was in high school. It sounds strange, but it is one of those special memories I shared with just him and me. He was also an incredible photographer. He played the guitar in church and at family functions. Even "taught" me as a kid. He had boxes and boxes of pictures and slides. Many of his pictures were of scenery from his camping trips or of different flowers in bloom. He had his own printing press, and printed all kinds of graphics on business cards, brochures, announcements, I think he even printed napkins for someone's wedding once. All of this is starting to sound personally familiar to me. I like spending time in my garden, I miss hiking and camping in the northwest, and I have tons of photos of things in bloom, and I've been attempting to learn how to play my guitar, and have been working in print and online media for years.

A few years ago, my mom came to visit. We were walking around the back yard and I had my camera in hand. I stopped to take a picture of a bromeliad that had just started to display this spectacular bloom. I smiled and chuckled and said, "I'm starting to feel like grandpa." My mom's smile faded a little. We both got quiet as those words slowly sank in. We both missed him.

The best friggin' latte ever.

http://www.peets.com/

Home

Well, it's been a while since my last post. We recently got back from the NW. Went to my nephew's graduation, saw lots of family in WA, and friends in OR. There's never enough time to see everyone. I really hate that.

It still amazes me that after being in FL for 10 years I still get "homesick" when I visit Portland.

Miss you all already.

c

Dominican Republic - May 9

It’s our last full day here, we fly out tomorrow. We picked up Chucho and went to the Botanical Garden. It’s a huge garden right in town. The place was full of school children there for a field trip. They have a train tour (actually a tram), but we decided to take the tour alone on foot. So, we didn’t get the history of the garden, but I think we saw a lot of things that we would have otherwise missed.

We saw some incredible torch gingers. Licuela palms very commonly used all over the city were 6 feet tall here (we’ve babied ours at home to a meer 3-4 feet at the tip). You could see that the garden used to be much more that it was today. Many of the exhibits were closed or in disarray and overgrown. People aren’t as interested in that type of attraction anymore. But you could see how grand it once was. I still took a lot of pictures, and had a great time. At one point we took the trail down through the canyon – which was all overgrown by plants and vines. It led down to a small stream. We didn’t follow it all the way because we couldn’t get through the jungle, but it was really cool to see.

Many of the plants were the same that we see here in Florida – lots of palms, crotons and bromeliads. But it was fun to see them in a different environment. Unfortunately, the orchid exhibit was closed at the time, so we didn’t get to see it.

Afterwards we had lunch at Rey’s Mexican Restaurant – I had a Burrito Pollo and of course Presidenté.

Back at the hotel Paul and I hit the pool again while Cesar met to meet his uncles in town.

It’s been a busy week, and after 5 days, it’s a little easier for me to understand conversations in Spanish, but still muy dificil hablar.

One funny thing that I learned was that the TV Stations don’t stay the same. One night in my room, while I was jotting down notes of our activities from the day, I was watching a movie, “Evolution” with David Duchovny, when about an hour into it, it changed to a Columbian infomercial! Not that the movie was an Oscar winner, but I still wanted to see the ending!

All in all, I really enjoyed my visit to the Dominican Republic. And I am so grateful that Cesar offered to be our host and show us his home. There is so much more that we just didn’t have time to see – you can’t do it all in a week. I think if I were to go back, I would want to visit the North and East coasts. I think the North coast is more mountainous and is more like a jungle. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll get the opportunity to return.

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Dominican Republic - May 8

Today we drove to Azua to see Cesar’s family. It was about a 2 hour drive. It was nice to get out of the city and see some of the country. It’s very dry in this portion of the island. We saw lots of sugar cane and plantain fields. Many of the bridges had been wiped out in the hurricane. So there was a lot of new construction along the way, but it wasn’t too bad. Azua

Azua is a small town – much smaller than sprawling Santo Domingo. We went to meet Cesar’s three aunts, Mercedes, Carmen and “Mama.” Cesar grew up with his aunts in this house. It’s small, but not terribly so. Mercedes and Carmen were there when we arrived. Mama lived nearby and came over a little later. These are some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Even though there was a huge language barrier, they made us feel so welcome in their home. They spent the morning preparing lunch for us – which I thought was incredibly generous. The meal was sautéed steak full of wonderful spices including onion, garlic, oregano, cilantro and other things. It was served with beans and rice, and a salad with green tomatoes and something called taiyota (I’m probably spelling that incorrectly). It’s a green (fruit?) that she peeled, sliced, boiled or blanched then cooled - a very subtle flavor with a pear-like texture. I’ve tried to find more info on it online, but haven’t had any luck yet. After lunch we had café con leche and that afternoon they made fresh papaya smoothies. Later we also had smoothies made from the passion fruit we bought the day before and brought with us. The best meal of the entire trip by far!

They had this really cool tree in the patio. It’s called a Higuero Tree. It has strange rough-looking bark, with pretty green leaves that break from old wood. It has these round, EXTREMELY hard fruits. We learned that the fruits are used to make Maracas (and I always thought they were gourds).

We also had the opportunity to meet more of his family – some of his uncles, two of his sisters and many nieces and nephews. All of them were very kind and gracious.

On the way back, we stopped at a few of the roadside souvenir booths. I bought a couple insulators for Presidenté. In Boca Chica, they served them by putting the entire bottle inside a piece of PVC pipe with a handle. This helped insulate the bottle and kept it from getting warm too quickly. I thought the wooden onces were pretty cool – so I bought a couple for home. One is big enough to hold a bottle of wine, the others would hold Coronas.

Back in Santo Domingo, we had dinner at an Italian restaurant called Vesuvio. I had a julienned caprese salad that also had sun dried tomatoes (to die for!) and baked chicken. With the exception of the salad, the dinner was okay all around, so we decided that we should go back to the Renaissance for coffee and desert again. But by the time we got back through the casino and to the coffee bar, it was closed! Dessert just wasn’t going to be the same without the coffee, so we decided against it.

On the way back to our hotel, we drove by the presidential palace, which just happened to be on the way. But as luck would have it, there was a security checkpoint performing random searches. It was a little disturbing to have the car suddenly surrounded by armed guards. Cesar explained that we were tourists and that we didn’t speak Spanish (thank God he was with us). We got out of the car and stood by while they searched the trunk. It was only a few minutes when we were able to get back in the car and head to our hotel.

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Dominican Republic - May 7

Today we drove through the city. I’m still amazed at the volume and chaos of the traffic. We drove to the east side of the city – which was much different than the Colonial District. It looks much more modern with tall buildings and common businesses (even saw a Burger King). Pretty much like a typical city.

We stopped and saw Cesar’s condo. I didn’t want to go in because he had a tenant living there. But it sits up on a hillside with a great view of the ocean a short distance away.

There’s a night club nearby that Cesar talked about, Guacara Taina Disco, so we decided to go check it out. It was the middle of the afternoon, so we knew it wouldn’t be open. We got there and there was a crew working on the grounds and cleaning up from the previous night’s events. I could see the entrance through the gate. It looked pretty cool. It just went down a few steps, and there was what looked like a small patio and bar carved out of the rock wall. Cesar disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a woman who worked there carrying a bunch of keys. She opened the gate for us and motioned for us to follow. I learned later that she somehow got the impression that we were leading a large tour group of about 40 people and we wanted to see the inside to see if we wanted to bring them there. Anyway, I didn’t think it was necessary since I could pretty much see it from there, but we followed her down the steps anyway. When we got to the bottom, she unlocked a door and we followed her through. We walked into this giant cavern. Turns out the little grotto I saw was only the ticket booth. This place was HUGE! It still looked like what it was, a giant cave, complete with stalactites. I felt like I was entering “the bat cave.” There was a concrete floor and hand rails where needed, but other than that, the walls and ceilings were untouched. We walked across the cavern and down a short series of steps into an even larger room. I was dumbfounded. There was a really long bar with many small round tables. Another large cavern to the right held a full stage with concert lights and a dance floor. This place could easily hold a few hundred people. And each weekend it does!

From there we drove across town to see the Columbus Lighthouse Monument (Faro a Colon). It doesn’t look like the usual lighthouse. It’s a huge monument built in honor of Christopher Columbus. It looks more like a modern pyramid from Central America. At night it projects a beam of light into the sky in the shape of a cross. Anyway, we didn’t know this until we got there, but it’s also where the ashes of Christopher Columbus are kept (they were moved there from Spain). It’s a pretty amazing monument. In 1972, the Pope visited the city and they have the "pope-mobile" on display outside. It's under a tent, and it's roped off, but now it's serving as a den for a litter of puppies.

We drove east from the lighthouse to Tres Ojos. It’s a park that has three with three lakes below ground level. It was truly amazing. We walked down the steps to see a cavern with an underground lake. We could see fish and turtles in the lake. We hiked to the next two lakes, and at the last one we had to take a small ferry. It was just a small platform on pontoons that was pulled across a short distance to the other side of the water. They dropped us off on the other side and we walked through the cave. It was pretty cool to think that we were so far underground. But it was large enough to not feel claustrophobic. It was pretty dark in spots and you had to stop and let your eyes adjust. It wasn’t lit at all, but it was close enough to the entrance that you could see okay. When we came out on the other side, we saw the third lake. Other than a few bats and a huge centipede on the way out, we didn’t see much animal life.

We went to a neighboring town, Boca Chica, for lunch. It’s a small tourist town lost of shopping. We were led to a parking spot and then to one of the restaurants on the beach. As soon as we sat down, the vendors were all over us. They were like seagulls! There had to be at least 6 people standing around us trying to get us to buy souvenirs, manicure, pedicure or massages or fish and other fresh critters from the sea. We really just wanted to be left alone and enjoy our lunch and the view. Cesar ended up having a conversation with our host who chased away the vendors for fear of losing his customers. He was pretty good at chasing them away for the most part. We ordered lunch and Presidenté (of course). We were finally settled and enjoyed the mesmerizing aquamarine color of the water and light breeze. Lunch was great. I had bistec (steak) and tostones (fried plantains). Paul had paea and Cesar had fish. Just as we were served, a group of young “spring breakers” sat at a table next to us, there were maybe ten of them in the group, and I’d guess that they had already begun drinking the afternoon away. As if on cue, the seagulls flocked to their tables. A few wandered to our table but we just shook our heads “no” and waved them to the other table (in fairness, they were actually buying things). It was pretty amusing to sit and watch the whole thing.

After lunch we shopped a little- didn’t buy anything. Went back to restaurant to use the restrooms before the drive back and ended up ordering just one more Presidenté (I can’t tell you how refreshing that is on a really hot day). We watched a group of women playing dominos. While we cooled off in the shade. After a while they invited us to play with them. None of them spoke any English. Who knew that the international language wasn’t love after all, but dominos? Our “one for the road” turned into several more as we enjoyed the game.

We decided to stop at the “Super Mercado” on the way back to pick up some bottled water and a few things (including a couple pounds of Café Molido). The store was huge and was a combination grocery, clothing, house wares, electronics and furniture store. Cesar was outside as we went through the checkout. I used my card, and was at a total loss when the cashier clearly wanted something from me but I couldn’t understand. Finally I got the message that she was asking for my ID. I felt silly for not getting that. The bagger was pushing the cart for me to the door, even though I tried to let him know it was okay, I could carry my few bags. When we got just outside we found ourselves surrounded by 4 or 5 men who were arguing about something with the store employee. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, so I just started pulling my bags out of the cart and walk away. Cesar saw the feeding frenzy and came over to clear it all up. Turns out, the men were all cab drivers and they were arguing over who was going to get our business. Thank got that Cesar was there. Otherwise, who knows where we would have ended up! We headed back to the hotel, and I was so tired that I was in bed by 10. It was another busy day.

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Dominican Republic - May 6

Well, as expected, the city looks a lot different in the ilght of day. We walked for several miles throughout the city, specifically the Colonial District. First we had breakfast at the hotel's outside restaurant. The cafe con leche was awesome. It was a welcome friend. Afterwards, we began our trek through the city. First and foremost, I have to say that I was surprised at the traffic. It was just amazing - cars everywhere, motorcycles and pedestrians thrown in the mix, horns blaring incessantly and only the faintest trace of traffic rules were to be found. We first saw the Altar de la Patria and the Parque Independencia. At the Altar de la Patria we saw the final resting place of the three forefathers of the DR; Juan Pablo Duarte, Matias Ramon Mella and Francisco del Rosario Sanchez. An imposing building in the middle of a beautifully landscaped park, it was two stories tall, built out of marble. Inside were large statues of the three men, and an eternal flame. It was attended by a couple of armed guards (something us "Norte Americanos" are not used to seeing). But they were very nice and offered a lot of history through the translation of Cesar. They were also kind enough to help us out taking pictures of the place and with them as well.

After that - we took a stroll down Conde Calle. This used to be the main shopping district in Santo Domingo. But with the advent of shopping malls in the newer part of the city, it has lost a little bit of it's luster. But it was still filled with clothing shops, souvenir stores and lots of local art for sale on the sidewalks. There was a young women's/girls clothing store named "Lolita" that I was particularly amused by.

Something that was really difficult to adjust to was being constantly approached by street vendors of all types - men selling souvenirs, boys offering to shine your shoes or men acting as their own "cambios" offering to sell you Dominican dollars for American dollars (I'm still at a loss at how that is a good deal for them - they would typically offer a higher exchange rate than the regular cambios or banks). But they were everywhere, and we had to learn to be insistent without appearing rude. By the end of the day, the polite veneer of a smile and "no, gracias" wore thin to a simple but stern "no."

Near the end of Conde Calle, we came to an open plaza, Parque y Monumento a Cristobal Colon that lead to the Catedral Metropolitana, the first Christian church of the new world. But we came back to that later.

We continued our walk down Conde Calle and went to the Forte of Santo Domingo, or Fortaleza de Santo Domingo. There we picked up a tour guide and got a LOT of history. We learned that years ago the fort was used as a prison, and our tour guide spent time in prison because he was accused of being a supporter of Fidel Castro. The fort has a volatile history - and our tour guide was so thorough that much of what he said was lost because it was just overwhelming. The fort overlooked the Ozama River that separated the original site of the city before it moved and the fort where it is today. There was an action movie being filmed at the time we were there (the name has escaped me) but we got a photo with one of the actors. He was pretty exhausted by then because he had already been killed three times that day. From there we turned and walked down Las Damas Calle. We passed by lots of buildings full of political history. We walked by Trampolin Children's Museum. We didn't go in, but we peeked at their courtyard which was nicely landscaped with lots of orchids and palms. We passed by another small museum that had two carvings of the local Taino tribes. Here we saw representations of the sun and moon. We were on our way to see Don Diego Colon's home (son of Christopher Columbus) we saw some really cool iron artwork. I didn't get any information about them, but they were really cool. We got to Alcazar Virreinal de Don Diego Colon in Plaza Espana. There are lots of pictures of the house at the link below. They said that Christopher Columbus never lived there, but his family did, most notably his son, Diego.

From there we went to the Amber museum. It was pretty cool - there were lots of things to look at. Including their nod to Jurassic Park with a piece of amber with a complete miniature dinosaur inside (very gumball machine-ish, but amusing). I didn't purchase anything - it was pretty expensive. And the tour was designed to lead into a sales pitch. We knew that was coming, but went along anyway to see the museum.

By this time we were getting pretty exhausted. We happened to run into our tour guide from the fort earlier and he suggested a small cafe close to where we were. So Paul, Cesar, Chucho and I collapsed around a small table and immediately ordered sodas, bottled water and a couple of bottles of Presidente - the local brew (a light beer, especially refreshing when served ice cold - we became very good friends of Presidente by the end of the week).

After lunch, we worked our way back to the Cathedral. Along the way, we saw the remains of the first monastery (The Dominicus), and the first mental hospital (yes, you read that correctly), and the first University. When we got to the Cathedral, my camera batteries died. We tried to get batteries at a nearby gift shop, but after returning two sets that were dead, I gave up. I'll have to get copies of the pictures Cesar and Paul took. I did get a couple shots though.

It was a lot to take in on the first day, and we were exhausted! We got back to the hotel, and went straight to the pool with a few more icy bottles of Presidente to wrap it all up.

After we rested up, we decided to venture out for dinner. Cesar decided that we should visit China Town (who knew?). We got there a little late, and decided to not spend a whole lot of time shopping around. But we found a little place to eat. It was kind of funny to see a menu that was a strange mix of Spanish and Chinese - "Pollo Lo Mein" for example. We had a good chuckle at that. Although it makes perfect sense, we just never thought about it before.

Later we went to a casino in a Rennaisance hotel. Casino's aren't something I usually enjoy, but Paul and Cesar wanted to go, and I'm glad we did. I didn't gamble, but lived vicariously through them and watched the local lounge act. By the end of the night, Paul had won $140 American dollars. On the way out we stopped by the restaurant for coffee (the best!) and dessert. I had the Passion Fruit Cheesecake. It wasn't really a cheesecake, it was more like flan. But it was the best coffee and dessert in the entire world. It was the perfect end to a very, very busy day.

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