tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64841932011-04-21T23:09:16.137-04:00T's Travelshere, there, and everywhere, here, there, and everywhere, here, there, and everywhere . . .bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comBlogger651100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1117401403852213472005-05-06T17:15:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:16:43.856-04:00May expand and expound. May not. Meh.Day Six: 05.06.05Things seen in Manuel Antonio: Squirrel Monkeys Mollusks Sand Bees Narrow Bridges PelicansStrong Sad Things zipped passed on the drive back to San Jose: Bony Goats Bony Cattle (each with its own personal bird valet) Crocodile (Crikey!)People selling watermelons and strawberries on the highway Turtle Traffic Things said at Hotel Brittania upon bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1117401121823195822005-05-05T17:11:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:12:01.830-04:00Day Five: 05.05.05 (make a wish!)After being called down by the hotel's roosters to come and eat our breakfast with some apricot yogurt to help choke down the papaya, we went to the room to prep for our walk through the hotel's private biological reserve. We got about 2 minutes into the hike before we realized that the Espadilla Reserve had something the Manuel Antonio Reserve did not: mosquitoesbajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1116082657926792522005-05-04T10:48:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:11:23.470-04:00Day Four: 05.04.05The anticipation of seeing all of the wildlife in its natural habitat had me (and by default and design, TP) awake and out early. Girding our bellies with the "breakfast included," we filled up on coffee, juice, a plate of fruit (note: white pineapple is not as sweet as yellow), saturated pancakes, gallo pinto, eggs, and plantains. Eavesdropping on our neighbors (all American), bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1117401041717892352005-05-03T17:10:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:10:41.720-04:00Day Three: 05.03.05Sheets of rain. Blankets of rain. King-sized duvets of rain. Rolling thunder, bright flashes of lightening, and torrents of rain smashing down on the tin roof kept us company all night long. The few moments of short-lived silence were punctuated by the piercing croaks of the toads who preferred the areas right outside the cabin doors to the jungle nearby.When morning finally bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1117400971210897342005-05-02T17:07:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:09:31.220-04:00Day Two: 05.02.05First stop: public phones to use the $2.00 telephone card to call home and announce safe arrival. Second stop: ATM to get thousands and thousands of colones (fun fact: the exchange rate these days is $1.00 US to 472.00 CRC so we pulled out about 50,000 colones. Ca-ching!). Third stop: breakfast at Morazan's only the place was just open for lunch and dinner so scratch that and bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1115847102703145942005-05-01T17:08:00.000-04:002005-05-11T17:40:34.610-04:00Day One: 05.01.05Indulging in a hot but thin shower with the Bliss products LB gave me, I started the day fresh and hungry. The hotel offered an all-you-can-eat buffet that consisted mainly of gallo pinto (black beans and rice), fruit (marvelous mangos, piquant pineapples, and pass on the papayas), eggs, toast, and all-you-can-drink Cafe Britt.Tummies full, we took a circuitous tour of the bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1115752102693822022005-04-30T15:07:00.000-04:002005-05-10T15:08:22.700-04:00Are you ready, kids?(Aye, Aye, Cap'n!)I can't heeeeaaarrrr you!(AYE, AYE, CAP'N!)Ohhhhhh, here's the Costa Rica travelogue:Pre-Day One: Having packed the night before, I was up at 5:00 a.m. and seriously contemplated beginning my vacation by slamming the doors and waking the neighbors (especially the no-named rat-dog) to exact my revenge for their countless pre-dawn antics. But there were still bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1113575712333848832005-01-28T10:34:00.000-05:002005-04-15T10:35:12.336-04:00Previously, on Hawaiilogue: breaking and entering birds, nuts trying to open nuts, and a bloomin' Orion. Cue the theme song, roll the opening credits, and begin the show.Day Six: The sunshine welcomed us warmly as we made our final trek to the breakfast buffet. The palm trees swayed in the distance, the colorful birds twittered merrily above, and the beautiful beach beckoned us to stroll upon itsbajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1113575607708773392005-01-27T10:33:00.000-05:002005-04-15T10:33:27.710-04:00Day Five: Not much. Honestly. Breakfast, beach, and bird-watching (a cardinal came into our room at one point).TP and I took a walk around the gardens in the afternoon. We came upon a coconut palm grove and found a coconut on the ground. Since we left our machete at home, TP went into total caveman mode as he tried to pry open the coconut, grunted meaninglessly, threw it violently against the bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1113575474483262762005-01-26T10:30:00.000-05:002005-04-15T10:33:54.633-04:00Day Four: Since all I had for dinner the night before was about half a bag of potato chips, I actually managed to make two full trips to the buffet for breakfast this time. I hadn't had whole milk in ages so I allowed myself a generous ladling of it when it was anahola granola time. At 9:00 a.m., we met up in the lobby for the garden tour of the resort's grounds. Our guide, whom I dubbed bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1113575382527718232005-01-25T10:28:00.000-05:002005-04-15T10:29:42.533-04:00Day Three: What's better than a cheese omelet? An omelet that has two kinds of cheese. I heart cheese. Cheesy Cheesy Cheese. So, after filling my belly with a breakfast of eggs and cheese (see what happens when Dad is away?), we explored the beach. With sturdy beach sandals on (I still have my 14 year old, busticated Tevas), TP and I ventured out onto the unfriendly lava rocks and were greeted bybajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1113575286633931252005-01-24T10:27:00.000-05:002005-04-15T10:28:06.636-04:00Day Two: Woke up at 6:00 a.m., went out onto the balcony, and watched the full moon sink into the Pacific horizon. I tried to take a decent pix of the moonset but my digicam wasn't quite up to the task. We were Dadless this morning because his conference had begun for the week so we were left to our own devices until he was free after noon. We got our daily shot of macadamia nuts at breakfast (bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1113575223443504952005-01-23T10:26:00.000-05:002005-04-15T10:27:03.446-04:00Day One: I woke up in Hawaii. Any story that begins with that sentence is okay by me. So. The 50th state in the union, Hawaii (a.k.a. the Sammich Islands) is the world's most isolated archipelago (about 2000 miles from L.A.; about 6000 miles from D.C. - hence the eye-reddening flights) and is made up of six to eight islands (can't seem to find a consensus on that so maybe Two Scoops can help out bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1113575172562027942005-01-22T10:24:00.000-05:002005-04-15T10:26:12.563-04:00Pre-Day One: TP, LB, and I battened down our respective hatches, wove our way through the airport full of smarmy, cowboy-wannabe, black-hatted and booted Republicans (in town to celebrate their prez's inauguration), and beat the "Blizzard of '05" that blanketed the East Coast by a matter of hours. We flew over snowy hill and dale and even the Grand Canyon:Five hours, two snooty flight attendants,bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1130980013764470192004-10-03T19:54:00.000-04:002005-11-02T20:06:53.776-05:00Gelato's Final Report Card(in order of appearance)Pistachio: BWatermelon: B-Strawberry: AChocolate: A+, honor roll, magna cum laudeSicilliana: AEgg nog: D, plays poorly with othersVanilla cherry: C-Coconut: BProfumi di sorrento: A, citrusy disposition, stays within the linesVanilla: B, completes homework assignmentsPeach: A+, honor roll, summa cum laudeCannoli: A-Walnut: BFig: AZuppa de Ingles: Abajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107460539721790992004-10-03T14:53:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:55:39.720-05:00Last Weekend in Paris Nibblet: We decided to start our early Saturday morning with a jaunt through the neighborhoods and ended up climbing down 85 steps down a circular, stone staircase into the depths of the Parisian sewer system and mass grave known as the Catacombs. We wove our way through the dark, wet tunnels decorated with skulls and bones and tried not to imagine that the dust on our shoesbajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107460373981239592004-10-01T14:50:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:52:53.980-05:0010/1 Nibblet: We spent Friday morning taking the metro up to the Arc de Triomph and promenading down the Elysian Fields. Along the way, we passed by the Louis Vuitton shop that was oh-so-stylishly under construction:
We stopped at Pizza Pino for lunch where we shared a pizza with beef, two kinds of cheese, and an egg (whaaa?). The pizza was humongous and could possibly rival our neighborhood'sbajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107460221021521412004-09-30T14:49:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:50:21.020-05:009/30 Nibblet: Travel Day, so not much happened. We took an early morning walk through the fog around our little village and came across a whole patch of grapes, blue berries, and figs. Free food! Walked a bit more, bid bon jour to our neighbors, scurried past the homes with wildly barking dogs, and took some pix of the cornfields, the houses, and the animals.
Riz picked us up so that we could bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107460114295320912004-09-29T14:47:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:48:34.296-05:009/29 Nibblet: After our daily alarm clock went off, we found out that our little pink farmhouse in La Championniere was still sans hot water. My cousin, Riz, picked us up, took us to her house, and there, I tried to take a hot shower. I say "tried" because I managed to shampoo my hair, rinse, and soap up before the water cut off. Not just the hot water; all of the water. So with a thin film of bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107460026356312762004-09-28T14:46:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:47:06.356-05:009/27 & 28 Nibblet: All you get today are pix. Well, ok, a little text. TGV to Lyon. Lyon to Chateau Gaillard. Tour of Chateau des Allymes and Tour de St. Denis. Three hour hike through the Alps. Delicious, familiar, safe, mouth-watering, missed-you-so-much-Pakistani-cuisine. 12th century farm house with cable tv.
Mont Blanc
Mer de Glace
Bustling Rest Stop
Crossing Swiss Border
bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459932404112372004-09-26T14:44:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:45:32.406-05:009/26 Nibblet: Back in the land of the croissant, we spent some time doing Sunday morning chores around the house (it's amazing how many crumbs trail behind a three-year old boy) before we took a walk along the Seine and lingered at the used book stalls. Taking advantage of the Musee d'Orsay's half-price Sundays, we thoroughly explored the train-station-turned-hotel-turned-museum (psst - that bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459888415108402004-09-25T14:43:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:44:48.416-05:009/25 Nibblet: Happy Birthday to me! With the chill and rain keeping people indoors, we spent most of the morning watching "Robin Hood" (the good version, not the cheesy version) in Italian but with the dubbers using the same voices and cadences as the original actors.
Sibilo : E voi. Chi ha potuto voi essere, signore?
John Piccolo : Sono sir Reginald, duca di chutney. E non attacchi la vostra bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459817242404962004-09-24T14:42:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:43:37.243-05:009/24 Nibblet: Woke up to the soothing sounds of the sea lapping at the shores early in the morning (luckily before Bruce "friends call me 'Slammy'" Slammerson began his morning ritual of testing the strength and integrity of the hotel's doors). At breakfast, we were warmly greeted by our senior citizen pals from the day before ("Hey! It's the honeymooners! How ya doin', honeymooners?"). Seated atbajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459741586585982004-09-23T14:41:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:42:21.586-05:009/23 Nibblet: Decided to have an adventure and see if we could visit and stay the night in Ravello with no reservation, no notice, and no map. Packed a few things in a small bag and hung out at Bar Tasso while waiting for the tourist office to open so we could book a room for that evening. Boarded the 11:35 a.m. bus at 12:00 p.m. and made our ascent along the tortuously twisty roads up and along bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459671337925382004-09-22T14:39:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:41:11.336-05:00it has come to my attention (courtesy of myself) that these nibblets are turning into huge, jaw-unhinged, only-an-anaconda-could-swallow bites. so, back to mouse nibblet sizes we go.
9/22 Nibblet: After purchasing our all-day, all-zone, all-modes-of-public-transportation (bus, train, funicular, metro) pass for 6.40 euros, we boarded the "direct" (meaning direct to each and every stop along the bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459539297910452004-09-21T14:38:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:38:59.296-05:009/21 Nibblet: By now, we were used to the slamming doors (7:00 a.m. so as not to miss the free breakfast), the cannon explosions (8:30 a.m. sharp, again at noon, and once more for good measure at 8:30 p.m.), and the insane rooster (5:00 a.m. until he darn well pleases). After a decent breakfast at Fauno's at Piazza Tasso, we wandered down to the docks on the off chance that we could catch a bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459478440322132004-09-20T14:37:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:37:58.440-05:009/20 Nibblet: During breakfast, I swear I think I saw one of the 200 Brits staying at the hotel butter their ham and dunk it into their burnt tea. We spent the morning traversing Sorrento and hanging out at the marina where all of the ships were docked. We picked our way down a steep, stone staircase to watch the Mediterranean blue waters lapping at the sides of the ferries, hydrofoils, and bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459412036064102004-09-19T14:36:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:36:52.036-05:009/19 Nibblet: Woke up early thanks to an insane rooster who could not tell time. Tried to get TP's hair cut (he was sporting some molto bushy noggins) but the barbershops were closed on Sundays. Learned the difference between an Italian's version of cafe latte ("white coffee" because it's basically milk with just a teaspoon of coffee) and cafe con panna (espresso topped with whipped cream), both bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459349616313412004-09-18T14:35:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:35:49.616-05:009/18 Nibblet: We flew from Paris to Naples on some no-name airline (ok, fine, it had a name, but you had to ask the crew for permission to use your portable device: "Can I use my Rio?" "No.") and after spotting our driver (hint: he held a big, white sign with our names emblazoned on it), we zipped in and out of the crazy Napoli traffic (Fiat Panda!), arrived in Sorrento, and checked into our bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459267319014462004-09-17T14:33:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:34:27.320-05:009/17 Nibblet: Centre Pompidou looks like a huge hamster cage turned inside out. Here is someone else's pix of this wacky complex. Marais has a tiny shop that sells the self-proclaimed "best falafel in the world" (although it could have stood a little more tahini, IMHO). Cafe viennois and crepes at bustling Bastille where the huge column not only commemorates the storming of the prison and the endbajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459220348547882004-09-16T14:33:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:33:40.346-05:00These boots were made for walkin'
And that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
("you" being the streets of Paris)
Nibblet 9/16: After a shot of caffeine (cafe con creme) and bite of pan con chocolate (where a thin layer of chocolate was painted on top of the pastry; LAME), we headed up to Montmartre (pronounced "Moan-mart" and no wonder after we bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459151204751752004-09-15T14:32:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:32:31.206-05:009/15 Nibblet: Jardin du Luxembourg is so much prettier in the fresh, lush late summer than it is in the chilly, dormant late winter. The spiky, purple-topped artichokes, the rows of straight and strong chestnut trees (which we don't have in the US), the anemones, the dahlias, the . . . uh . . . something or other pretty flowers! KA-BLOOM!
And the prize for the best deep, dark, rich, hot bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1107459093107667222004-09-14T14:29:00.000-04:002005-02-03T14:31:33.106-05:00I was flying into Chicago at night
Watching the lake turn the sky into blue-green smoke
The sun was setting to the left of the plane
And the cabin was filled with an unearthly glow
In 27-D, I was behind the wing
Watching landscape roll out
Like credits on a screen
The earth looked like it was lit from within
Like a poorly assembled electrical ball as we moved
Out of the farmlands into the grid
bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1144312498717788522004-05-21T04:33:00.000-04:002006-04-06T04:36:51.636-04:00Remember way back when, when I was writing up a travelogue for my Ireland/Scotland trip? Not sure if you can cast your mind that far back since it's been so long, but it occurred to me that I never did complete the tale. Mia culpa, folks. Until I have the more detailed version down and up (on paper and on line, respectively), here are the highlights from the next day:Trekked from Logie's Baird bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1088691686470335622004-05-20T10:21:00.000-04:002004-07-01T10:21:26.470-04:00Bonnie Scotland! Land of bagpipes, the plaid, and whisky (Fun Fact: "Whisky" is a Scottish Gaelic word that means "water of life"). At 5 a.m., we packed up our belongings, kept the sunrise company as we took the AirLink to the airport, and said "Slan libh, mo bhaibini" to Dublin. Mode of transportation: Ryanair, Europe's Number One Budget airline. Since we are leaving Ireland, perhaps a bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1088177827630823802004-05-19T11:36:00.000-04:002004-06-25T11:59:54.873-04:00We were up at 8 a.m. to shower, pack, and store our luggage until our fourth (and thankfully final) room was ready for us. Breakfast was had at the Keogh's Cafe and while I quite enjoyed my vegetarian fare of sauteed 'shrooms, potato pancakes, and French toast, it was hard to eat with my eyes closed. Why were my eyes closed? Across from me, Amelie was eating black (a.k.a. blood) pudding. Ahembajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1088177796753338092004-05-18T11:36:00.000-04:002004-06-25T11:36:36.996-04:00Lonely Planet lied. Trustworthy up to a point, LP has a tendency to misguide, misjudge, or have outdated information at least ONCE in each book. In Egypt, it was the location of the final stop on the bus to Sharm El-Sheikh and the quality of our hotel. In China, it was the timings of the boat tour in Shanghai. Here, LP promised that the Gallic Kitchen (allegedly displaying a sign that stated bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1088177734003381052004-05-16T11:35:00.000-04:002004-06-25T11:35:34.003-04:00Good news, after a talk with the manager, we secured a new room with two bunk beds and a private bath! Bad news, we had to check-out and store our bags in the locker room by 10 a.m. and then reclaim our bags and re-check-in at 2 p.m. That meant that our day was going to have to revolve around the hostel's schedule. We dressed for a day at the beach and planned a trip to Bray, the resort town bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1086873558130419032004-05-16T09:18:00.000-04:002004-06-10T09:19:18.130-04:00Refreshed, revived, and ravenous, we came downstairs to Clifden House's dining room for breakfast at 9 a.m. I loaded up with scrambled eggs and toast with rich, creamery butter served on pretty blue and white china, a cup of fruity yogurt, some coffee, and a small glass of OJ. Amelie went "Full Irish" (enough to make any Muslim cringe): one egg (slightly runny), some sausage (linked), some bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1086873517612205312004-05-15T09:18:00.000-04:002004-06-10T09:18:37.613-04:00Arriving at London Heathrow Airport nearly an hour late, we briskly trekked, trammed, and trekked from Terminal 4 to Terminal 1 and still had time to wrangle two tickets for the coveted emergency exit row for our British Midlands flight to Dublin. I had never been in the domestic-and-Ireland flights section of Heathrow and was intrigued by the bizarre design and shape of the terminal itself. bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1086873482352328332004-05-14T09:17:00.000-04:002004-06-10T09:18:02.353-04:00Trying to outsmart British Airways, we attempted to assign our own seats on-line so that we could skip the line at the airport and kick back in the emergency exit row for the seven hour flight. Alas, the slowest ever dial-up connection foiled our plans and made us sweaty with frustration. We mentally hurled the laptop away and went at it with baseball bats ala "Office Space" and went out for bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1086873430072735982004-05-13T09:15:00.000-04:002004-06-10T09:17:10.073-04:00Flashback to Iceland, 2003 (insert flashback wavy lines here)
Amelie and I were doing some comparison shopping on postcards at the various tourist information shops when our ears were accosted by the booming voice of a loud, pushy American (complete with reverse baseball hat and sports jersey) demanding to know:
"Where can I get A CUP OF JOE?"
The agent manning the desk flinched a bit and gavebajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1081887071386409842004-04-13T16:09:00.000-04:002004-04-13T16:15:06.873-04:00Time-travel for my France 2002 travelogue. Children under 12 are not permitted unless accompanied by an adult. Void where prohibited.bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1080161522029192982004-03-24T15:51:00.000-05:002004-03-24T15:55:29.483-05:00anyone but me and lil baji reading these posts? new one below.bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1080157240646372522004-01-23T14:29:00.000-05:002004-03-24T15:54:42.780-05:00It was quiet. Too quiet. I woke up in a strange bed and lay there for a moment to think. Faint recollection of Chinese food personally prepared by a Bangladeshi chef the night before. Blurry images of playing Battleship. KK giving me an insider's tour guide commentary by pointing out the spots where the would-be assassins laid in wait for Musharraf. Ah, yes! Rawalpindi, the more crowded, bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1078261423043974642004-01-22T15:57:00.000-05:002004-03-02T21:14:32.513-05:00While the city's layers of pollution washed away in the heavy rain, we spent the morning looking out of the windows, longing to be outside ala the kids in "The Cat in the Hat". The Cat finally arrived in the form of one of my closest cousins and her crew. The decibel level increased proportionally and the marble floors did nothing to cushion the sound. Someone suggested we continue our lovely bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1077847321376330612004-01-21T20:19:00.000-05:002004-02-26T21:37:35.030-05:00To make up for yesterday's full day, we did little to nothing on this rainy, windy Wednesday. My grandmother loves making dresses, socks, baby clothes, you name it. She is a sewing machine! Well, not literally. Anyway, the morning was spent dashing off to the Naval Market, the Naval Headquarters' shopping area where family members of the Pakistani Navy can conveniently pick up anything from bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1077654870711274402004-01-20T15:34:00.000-05:002004-02-24T16:12:35.640-05:00"Wake up, baby dolls," my dad sang to us. It was still dark outside and I was disoriented simply by the fact that it was my father's voice waking me up rather than those rabid, flea-bitten mongrels next door. The ancient routine was followed as Dad hovered in the doorway to see if there was any movement forthcoming and when the only observable motion was us burrowing deeper under the covers, hebajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1077079209020089342004-01-19T23:33:00.000-05:002004-02-25T13:58:18.153-05:00Nestled at the foot of the Margalla hills, the capital city of Islamabad is neatly if not logically divided into eight zones: administrative, diplomatic, residential, educational, industrial, commercial, rural and green areas. I remember a cleaner, calmer, less traffic-snarl-ridden city but these days the population is up, the pollution is rampant, and the tension is high. "Islamabad, the bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1077033248508997722004-01-18T10:53:00.000-05:002004-02-17T20:11:01.593-05:00Damn those hellhounds! Damn them all to . . . well, hell, I suppose. With confirmed sightings of jackals and wild boars in the area, I was less surprised, but no less irritated, by the early morning doggie alarms coming from the house next door. Once again, I resigned myself to being fully awake and slid down the banister (it's tradition!) to read until the rest of the family arose and bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1076909234605655312004-01-17T00:27:00.000-05:002004-02-16T20:39:43.576-05:00There were wolves baying at the moon and angry, I-mean-business barks and growls piercing the night. A moment of disorientation and quiet descended and then was shattered by further yips and yaps and yelps. According to the Winnie-the-Pooh clock on the wall that had been keeping time with non-synchronic beats, it was 3:30 a.m. -- there's a 3:30 in the morning now? Several thoughts occurred to bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1076889131545869092004-01-16T18:51:00.000-05:002004-02-16T20:40:14.186-05:00After suffering through middle-row syndrome on the entire twenty-two hour voyage from DC to Pakistan, we reached Islamabad early Friday morning safe and sound, albeit quite disheveled and sleep-deprived. Upon arrival, our parents, my grandfather, and my uncle greeted us at the gate and as we had no checked-in luggage to wait for (viva carry-ons!), whisked us home where we were met by the rest ofbajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1078848257385072432004-01-01T11:04:00.000-05:002004-03-24T16:39:39.466-05:00Back by popular demand (and by 'popular demand' I mean 'just because'), newly digitized and uploaded with pix galore is my Iceland/Denmark travelogue for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy and check out the pix gallery at the end of the story (if you make it that far).bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1082664426881252302002-03-23T15:56:00.000-05:002004-04-23T09:40:39.153-04:00March 23, 2002
Tres triste, Saturday was our last day in Paris. We bought some fresh fruit from an outdoor weekend market for breakfast and surveyed our neighborhood one last time. Naturally, we could not leave the city without a jaunt through the Louvre Museum. Taking the advice offered by Lonely Planet, we had purchased our tickets to the Louvre from Fnac at Place de la Bastille the night bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1082572532603501662002-03-22T14:35:00.000-05:002004-04-21T14:39:38.640-04:00Friday! Jummah! We thought we'd pay a visit to the largest mosque in Paris which just happened to be right in our neighborhood. The mosque was lovely, serene, and beautiful. Apparently, Islam is France's second largest faith (five million strong!), which came as a surprise to me considering the latest news about the potential French ban on headscarves in state schools (although the latest bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1082572484088572352002-03-21T14:34:00.000-05:002004-04-21T14:38:50.140-04:00The gray, blustery morning began with a circuit around the neighborhood and followed the narrow streets that led to Le Pantheon, where we (belatedly) celebrated International Women's Day.
Continuing along the ever-widening paths, we arrived at Jardins (Gardens) du Luxembourg. Although it was still too early for the flowers to bloom, too chilly for the children to ride the Shetland ponies, bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1082572442564918002002-03-20T14:33:00.000-05:002004-04-21T14:38:08.623-04:00Sandwiches and coffee in hand, we took the train (the RER line C4, "V" train; yeah, we finally figured out the system) to the Versailles-Rive Gauche station. Twenty minutes later, we were walking up the long path that led to the Chateau de Versailles. From simple hunting lodge to the ornate, gigantic palace of the Sun King, the Chateau was home to the Apartment of the Planets, the famous Hall bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1081886902748745512002-03-19T16:07:00.000-05:002004-04-13T16:12:18.246-04:00If we had had enough time, we would have hopped, skipped and jumped to nearby Mont Blanc. As it was, we had to return to Paris early in the morning or else lose an entire day in the city and perhaps our hotel room. In a mere two hours, we were back in rainy Paris. The hotel management rather curtly informed us that we were going to be assigned a different room, this time without a balcony or abajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1082572390919698462002-03-19T14:32:00.000-05:002004-04-21T14:37:16.983-04:00Continuation from March 19, 2002
Our next stop on our self-created Goth tour was Cathedral de Notre Dame de Paris. The stormy weather provided a perfect backdrop for viewing the famous cathedral.
Beautiful rose windows, vicious-looking gargoyles, and an assortment of statues of kings, priests, and saints in various poses: the most attention-grabbing one was of St. Denis holding his own bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1081886866132339062002-03-18T16:07:00.000-05:002004-04-13T16:11:41.653-04:00Off to Lyon! Well, more specifically, Bourg en Bresse, a quaint (read 'little') town 60 km north of Lyon in the Rhone-Alpes region. Actually, more precisely, Chateau Gaillard, a little (read 'diminutive') village in which one of my cousins had settled down. In order to travel lightly, we packed one small overnight bag each and arranged for the hotel to store the rest of our luggage until we bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1081886830363037162002-03-17T16:06:00.000-05:002004-04-13T16:11:05.890-04:00Sunday morning le petit dejeuner of cheese omelets and cafe creme at a local bar was followed by idle roaming through the nearby open-air farmer's market at Place Monge. The fruits and vegetables were all so healthy, aromatic, and pleasantly displayed -- a far cry from the ghetto grocery stores we were used to. We decided to see what eye-candy the Parisian museums had to offer and so navigated bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1081886732107802982002-03-16T16:05:00.000-05:002004-04-13T16:09:27.640-04:00Got up earlier than anticipated and sloppily learned how to bathe in a teeny tiny tub; with no shower door or curtain to hold the splash in, it took some careful maneuvering and slow, cautious movements to avoid flooding the entire bathroom. We took the metro (what a tangled web!) from Rue Monge to Bin Hakim near the Eiffel Tower to meet up with our friends who were also visiting Paris. We bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1081886664711086062002-03-15T16:04:00.000-05:002004-04-13T16:10:20.263-04:00Lil Baji and I arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport around 7:30 pm and with surprisingly little hassle with respect to luggage, customs, and cabs, we checked into our little Left Bank hotel - The Residence Monge - by 8:30 pm. After surveying our room, which was somewhat larger than we expected after hearing the cautionary tales of how miniscule French accommodations were, we ventured out to findbajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-52569200209244938322000-05-10T14:05:00.000-04:002008-12-10T14:06:06.257-05:00May, 2000[please note that this travelogue was written when the dollar was strong, the prices in Spain were cheap, and I was not familiar with this "linking" concept and digital picture hoo ha.]Dear Constant Readers,Yes, folks, it is that time of the year again. Time for another e-travelogue from yours truly. When I last left you, we were recovering from our adventures and tribulations south of bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6484193.post-1162173645190436961998-10-29T20:56:00.000-05:002006-10-29T21:00:45.230-05:00Far East Coast, ChinaOn October 1, 1998, I found myself flying over the Himalayan range and the famous peak K2, over the Gobi desert, and into Beijing, China. My family often takes advantage of the opportunity afforded by having relatives and friends in far-flung places and this year, we decided to visit my father's brother's wife's sister's husband who was stationed in Beijing with his family. bajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17534818463933929353noreply@blogger.com