tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69775982024-03-13T03:14:38.481-04:00Wandering by the Waya blog about travel and other journeys tooWanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-45630516362361123462011-04-16T13:30:00.001-04:002011-04-16T13:32:00.462-04:00If you didn't know Easter was coming......now you know. People in Astoria take their holiday decorations seriously. Take a look. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. and Mrs. Easter Bunny and their picket fence</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some trees blossom, some ovulate.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OF5_ijDtf_c/Tai5rj7FlyI/AAAAAAAAD5U/-h5TUktEmIM/s1600/IMAG0039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OF5_ijDtf_c/Tai5rj7FlyI/AAAAAAAAD5U/-h5TUktEmIM/s320/IMAG0039.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bunny glows and purrs electric at night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pretty impressive, right? Well, not all efforts pan out the same way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue bunny</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XsCgSO8YQ44/Tai5vmn_uEI/AAAAAAAAD5g/uHjRhcCcqKE/s1600/IMAG0033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XsCgSO8YQ44/Tai5vmn_uEI/AAAAAAAAD5g/uHjRhcCcqKE/s320/IMAG0033.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stickers</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aw.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ever since I stopped going to church a long long time ago, I only have vague notions of when religious holidays come around, besides Christmas. I only know it's Ash Wednesday when I see people walking around with black smudges on their foreheads, Yom Kippur and Ramadan when Jewish and Arab friends get grumpy, Passover when the same Jewish friends get picky about restaurants, and Lent when non-Jews or -Arabs talk about giving something up. So I'm thankful for the clues around the neighborhood, because I have been saying for years that I will go to church on Easter Sunday to hear some amazing organ music. Maybe I'll actually do it this year.Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-6647635728101507482011-04-10T18:13:00.000-04:002011-04-10T18:13:40.514-04:00Springing ForwardThe bare stick-planted yards of a few weeks ago have been blossoming the last few days, and walking Susie around the neighborhod has become a pleasant stroll instead of a 30-degree chore.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-skzYfuJXuTI/TaIgzBNA5BI/AAAAAAAAD4k/1AWP5d8AZtQ/s1600/blossoms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-skzYfuJXuTI/TaIgzBNA5BI/AAAAAAAAD4k/1AWP5d8AZtQ/s320/blossoms.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7NuuPZ-B_w8/TaIg07irF4I/AAAAAAAAD4o/AM2fbXlmhbw/s1600/blossoms2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7NuuPZ-B_w8/TaIg07irF4I/AAAAAAAAD4o/AM2fbXlmhbw/s320/blossoms2.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IAimYLiykNI/TaIg2MqdQBI/AAAAAAAAD4s/79uFMFKleEE/s1600/blossoms3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IAimYLiykNI/TaIg2MqdQBI/AAAAAAAAD4s/79uFMFKleEE/s320/blossoms3.jpg" width="191" /></a></div> Just as spring has arrived, some of the little employment seeds I've been sowing since I got back from the boat have begun to sprout too. I am keeping my fingers crossed that the spell of good weather we're forecasted to have this week will put my interviewers this week in very good moods. In the meantime, here are some recent pics of my toodling around.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H7NgmhCKxNU/TZ6Ul86_DsI/AAAAAAAAD4c/dvIgx8QQ0hc/s1600/P1030394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H7NgmhCKxNU/TZ6Ul86_DsI/AAAAAAAAD4c/dvIgx8QQ0hc/s320/P1030394.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VkwSfrP027k/TZ6UC_ekPYI/AAAAAAAAD3M/35cAIT2moHE/s1600/P1030359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VkwSfrP027k/TZ6UC_ekPYI/AAAAAAAAD3M/35cAIT2moHE/s320/P1030359.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mSyeJR23WEM/TZ6URQr2d-I/AAAAAAAAD3w/fdUR3B1NdGo/s1600/P1030373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mSyeJR23WEM/TZ6URQr2d-I/AAAAAAAAD3w/fdUR3B1NdGo/s320/P1030373.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NXjITFzMY-w/TZ6UE_TWoNI/AAAAAAAAD3U/muQ6CVt8-nA/s1600/P1030361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NXjITFzMY-w/TZ6UE_TWoNI/AAAAAAAAD3U/muQ6CVt8-nA/s320/P1030361.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lvWvxxwMQWQ/TZ6UHAIGPvI/AAAAAAAAD3Y/SutMxEKo1-M/s1600/P1030363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lvWvxxwMQWQ/TZ6UHAIGPvI/AAAAAAAAD3Y/SutMxEKo1-M/s320/P1030363.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PNNtCFQdA8A/TZ6UVWeAH2I/AAAAAAAAD34/eCKpxd6t2qA/s1600/P1030379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PNNtCFQdA8A/TZ6UVWeAH2I/AAAAAAAAD34/eCKpxd6t2qA/s320/P1030379.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d2YOCek2Ap4/TZ6UdybCbcI/AAAAAAAAD4M/MfCz4UyDSuA/s1600/P1030384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d2YOCek2Ap4/TZ6UdybCbcI/AAAAAAAAD4M/MfCz4UyDSuA/s320/P1030384.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PfteuXF_vWA/TZ6Ufgki_nI/AAAAAAAAD4Q/ZLaVYm-18aA/s1600/P1030389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PfteuXF_vWA/TZ6Ufgki_nI/AAAAAAAAD4Q/ZLaVYm-18aA/s320/P1030389.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>On another happy note, I got a phone call from one of my former pro bono clients, a teenager from Ivory Coast whose application for Special Immigrant Juvenile Status I handled in 2008. In the months since I had last talked to him, before setting off on the boat, his English has improved so much that I almost didn't recognize him! I'd never heard him sound cheerful and relaxed in English, so it was a real treat to hear him talk about school and his part-time job. Then he said, "I called because it has been a long time, and I will always call you because I will never forget you!" Awww... Now that is something you don't hear from an investment bank and which makes being a lawyer completely fantastic. Thanks, Karim! :)Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-80784335136663310672011-03-22T20:45:00.004-04:002011-03-23T23:10:05.771-04:00Astoria<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-KxcorJd2mSQ/TYk0RfHxPII/AAAAAAAAD1k/Dj2vtlKnnSs/s1600/P1030345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-KxcorJd2mSQ/TYk0RfHxPII/AAAAAAAAD1k/Dj2vtlKnnSs/s320/P1030345.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This is my new neighborhood for a while. It is a big change from the boat in the Bahamas and certainly from midtown Manhattan and Chelsea, where I lived before moving onto the boat. Astoria, or at least my part of it, is full of small front yards with low fences, long alleys between and behind buildings that can conveniently cut short your walk around the block, the high rumble of the Amtrak passing overhead nearby, and the wind that rushes in off the East River around the Triborough Bridge. And of course, there are occasional Greek key symbols and sunburst motifs on window grills and front doors, not to mention a big, multiple blue-domed Greek Orthodox church.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nIBc8SoLlNo/TYk0JYkIcjI/AAAAAAAAD1Y/WkfESF5cyYM/s1600/P1030342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nIBc8SoLlNo/TYk0JYkIcjI/AAAAAAAAD1Y/WkfESF5cyYM/s320/P1030342.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Y5EzZSZ2vO4/TYZ6HHz5fBI/AAAAAAAADzA/rWeuO1pOdV4/s1600/P1030301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Y5EzZSZ2vO4/TYZ6HHz5fBI/AAAAAAAADzA/rWeuO1pOdV4/s320/P1030301.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It's been amusing photographing what people here do with a small front yard. There are religious icons...<br />
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...and animals.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-kKjSrrggcPU/TYkzxnDN_vI/AAAAAAAAD0k/2_BtDYcZ4nY/s1600/P1030331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-kKjSrrggcPU/TYkzxnDN_vI/AAAAAAAAD0k/2_BtDYcZ4nY/s320/P1030331.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-vrSTlEC3_nI/TYkz2an2HTI/AAAAAAAAD0s/SJ334tQEmLM/s1600/P1030333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-vrSTlEC3_nI/TYkz2an2HTI/AAAAAAAAD0s/SJ334tQEmLM/s320/P1030333.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-BSlluC_yQx0/TYk0GGEg0VI/AAAAAAAAD1U/2Ph9o-uiLOM/s1600/P1030341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-BSlluC_yQx0/TYk0GGEg0VI/AAAAAAAAD1U/2Ph9o-uiLOM/s320/P1030341.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O87zyv6XLmw/TYk0PIfVsvI/AAAAAAAAD1g/4NLJHasKuxs/s1600/P1030344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O87zyv6XLmw/TYk0PIfVsvI/AAAAAAAAD1g/4NLJHasKuxs/s320/P1030344.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Some are wild with growing things...<br />
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...while others are manicured or cemented.<br />
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Speaking of religious icons, Sunday afternoon, a police car and a snare drum came down my street and under my window, leading a procession of 25 black-clad people around a priest in white robes and a religious statue/shrine/altar. An eight-piece mini-marching band brought up the rear with a rendition of "Amazing Grace." I don't know what the occasion was. The banner, which read "I-Devoti di St. Giuseppe, Congregazione 1990," explained little.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-bV_PtaKZTWU/TYZ6op73lXI/AAAAAAAADzg/NgVTD0GIVXE/s1600/P1030319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-bV_PtaKZTWU/TYZ6op73lXI/AAAAAAAADzg/NgVTD0GIVXE/s320/P1030319.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-vv3u0mvQjBg/TYZ6zd3aNuI/AAAAAAAADz0/2vZ6rrskMVE/s1600/P1030323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-vv3u0mvQjBg/TYZ6zd3aNuI/AAAAAAAADz0/2vZ6rrskMVE/s320/P1030323.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1pjfLOh6PHQ/TYZ60gb87YI/AAAAAAAADz4/I-m3SwaHbdI/s1600/P1030324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1pjfLOh6PHQ/TYZ60gb87YI/AAAAAAAADz4/I-m3SwaHbdI/s320/P1030324.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-A-4ofZPMQT0/TYZ61jjVoZI/AAAAAAAADz8/lar2n_5IlQg/s1600/P1030325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-A-4ofZPMQT0/TYZ61jjVoZI/AAAAAAAADz8/lar2n_5IlQg/s320/P1030325.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
Susie likes the neighborhood well enough: Astoria Park is pretty big and there is plenty of room to run during off-leash hours. <br />
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Astoria Park is right by Hell's Gate, which is a notorious strip of the East River for its evil current. It's funny: I always used to like being by some body of water, but never felt any particular pull to *set out* on that water. That has completely changed now, and so when I walk by Hell's Gate and watch the current swooshing past, I feel a pang and take pictures of the sea where I see it now. I am blessed and I am cursed! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5zlCuhbcuCU/TYZ5sJHVT6I/AAAAAAAADyM/UyFTBFtgGy8/s1600/P1030313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5zlCuhbcuCU/TYZ5sJHVT6I/AAAAAAAADyM/UyFTBFtgGy8/s320/P1030313.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-TTNzkwYhErc/TYZ5pG_3YaI/AAAAAAAADyE/6tt4362j4_4/s1600/P1030316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-TTNzkwYhErc/TYZ5pG_3YaI/AAAAAAAADyE/6tt4362j4_4/s320/P1030316.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3UrMSdSrtrA/TYk0CBuySGI/AAAAAAAAD1I/2qp7y9SmzQM/s1600/P1030339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3UrMSdSrtrA/TYk0CBuySGI/AAAAAAAAD1I/2qp7y9SmzQM/s320/P1030339.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-67035355363557315822011-03-01T10:15:00.004-05:002011-03-23T23:11:03.623-04:00Culture Shock<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5rjOnZfwUW2atPHXk2eZWoFoUrOu8n8sNDoauTOMrvkpEKvgygxYb4kYxc9cDgJHuR2F5iierYMWPDemKj99nO1SBCYRfgIbykX_m0rjECMKH92EzdIAct0PwiC3VNtgGyVX/s1600/DSC04994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5rjOnZfwUW2atPHXk2eZWoFoUrOu8n8sNDoauTOMrvkpEKvgygxYb4kYxc9cDgJHuR2F5iierYMWPDemKj99nO1SBCYRfgIbykX_m0rjECMKH92EzdIAct0PwiC3VNtgGyVX/s320/DSC04994.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I am back in NY, with no feasible plan to return to the boat, which is now sailing through the Bahamas with Evan alone. I am sad not to be with them anymore. But student loans must be paid and my dog must be looked after. <br />
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I got here only late Thursday night, but within the first 36 hours, I felt I'd been back for ages. I am trying to keep the sense of calm energy I have been carrying since I left Jentel and the Bahamas, but it is a challenge in this city. There are just so many people here and so much noise.<br />
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I did, however, have an unexpected moment of nostalgia in one of the most crowded places around: Macy's in Herald Square. Riding the old wooden escalators on my way to buy a new mattress, I suddenly felt thirteen years old again, the age at which I moved to New York from Los Angeles with my dad. For some reason, back then, quintessential New York was the wooden escalators at Macy's and revolving doors everywhere else.<br />
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Back outside on 34th Street, the perfumes and colognes and body odors of busy pedestrians mixed with the day's abnormally balmy air, dank subway drafts, and exhaust from honking traffic. I loved it. New York never fails to feel both completely new yet familiar every time I come back after having left it for a long while. It's like a very fast river that you can always count on to sweep you along with it. The challenge, though, is resisting the urge to fight the city's crazy current when you're tired. You just have to maneuver your way to the branches and rocks by the banks to rest against from time to time and watch, without anxiety or angst, the river sweeping past. My only fear is that this is only possible to do over the long term with the luxury of bottomless energy, patience, or money, or all three.<br />
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For now, though, I am simply enjoying the sunny hints of spring, reunions with much-missed friends, yummy and cheap Chinatown, and my own personal anchor of daily committed writing.Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-66785503304537759962011-02-24T22:53:00.003-05:002011-03-23T23:12:38.985-04:00Bimini, the BahamasWe left Miami in the dark at 3 am, the last of four sailboats heading about forty miles through the Atlantic and the Gulf Stream to Bimini, the Bahamas. Here are some pics of nautical and civil twilights and sunrise. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-mD6t4eO9gTo/TWlHisACw0I/AAAAAAAADpg/IoIifXmNEDA/s1600/P1030223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-mD6t4eO9gTo/TWlHisACw0I/AAAAAAAADpg/IoIifXmNEDA/s320/P1030223.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-c7d0es9BcKE/TWlHg388fpI/AAAAAAAADpY/6ivh4Yx4Xvk/s1600/P1030221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-c7d0es9BcKE/TWlHg388fpI/AAAAAAAADpY/6ivh4Yx4Xvk/s320/P1030221.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PsS1RHQEocE/TWlHsZmMe5I/AAAAAAAADqA/icVAvUIPZ6U/s1600/P1030231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PsS1RHQEocE/TWlHsZmMe5I/AAAAAAAADqA/icVAvUIPZ6U/s320/P1030231.JPG" width="240" /></a> <a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-s9IhoN0s_Hs/TWlHnYTBtYI/AAAAAAAADpw/eToHcUPdcKM/s1600/P1030227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-s9IhoN0s_Hs/TWlHnYTBtYI/AAAAAAAADpw/eToHcUPdcKM/s320/P1030227.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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The crossing itself turned out to be a breeze. We had a perfect, light wind from the south, and we sailed for some hours without the engine, listening only to the boat's rushing with the chop-free water. Unfortunately, I had taken a Dramamine just in case I got seasick after being a mountain lady for a Wyoming month, and it knocked me out for most of the crossing. I did, however, wake up and stay up long enough to enjoy the royal blue of the Gulf Stream.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5dEUtsq6U_Y/TWlHthqsTbI/AAAAAAAADqE/biHLpydFpi8/s1600/P1030232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5dEUtsq6U_Y/TWlHthqsTbI/AAAAAAAADqE/biHLpydFpi8/s320/P1030232.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-neJqwfBiank/TWlHu7RX2yI/AAAAAAAADqI/kTd3gPDnRKI/s1600/P1030233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-neJqwfBiank/TWlHu7RX2yI/AAAAAAAADqI/kTd3gPDnRKI/s320/P1030233.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-5S3HjzFiS74/TWlHwSLCEZI/AAAAAAAADqM/64_ER9ey8rA/s1600/P1030234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-5S3HjzFiS74/TWlHwSLCEZI/AAAAAAAADqM/64_ER9ey8rA/s320/P1030234.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Then we arrived in Bimini!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-gUNJHqLTbHM/TWlH3W_hhFI/AAAAAAAADqs/dPIBT0iqIGg/s1600/P1030242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-gUNJHqLTbHM/TWlH3W_hhFI/AAAAAAAADqs/dPIBT0iqIGg/s320/P1030242.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HrK3-R77aTU/TWlH4Mpkf7I/AAAAAAAADqw/IKIJZAkNP6U/s1600/P1030243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HrK3-R77aTU/TWlH4Mpkf7I/AAAAAAAADqw/IKIJZAkNP6U/s320/P1030243.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Ay5gesUw34k/TWlH5PtSBNI/AAAAAAAADq0/ozPxTDpFV6o/s1600/P1030246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Ay5gesUw34k/TWlH5PtSBNI/AAAAAAAADq0/ozPxTDpFV6o/s320/P1030246.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After we cleared customs and immigration, Evan and I set out to explore the island. We passed up the opportunity to rent a golf cart for $60 a day and just walked around, taking breaks from the sun under shady trees every 1000 meters or so. Even so, our pace far outstripped the locals. They not only took frequent breaks under some shade, but they also walked extremely slowly when under the sun. Counterintuitive it might seem, but they weren't sweating nearly as much as we were.<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="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j-d3LzhVcv0/TWlH8rLXKzI/AAAAAAAADrE/x1Ofouq5Fxs/s1600/P1030253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j-d3LzhVcv0/TWlH8rLXKzI/AAAAAAAADrE/x1Ofouq5Fxs/s320/P1030253.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, cool relief...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>What else? Evan and I feasted on delicious coconut bread, which is doughy and elastic and subtly sweet in a way that made me consider it a wild ancestor to French toast. We finally went swimming! We saw our first close-up wreck.<br />
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We learned about Ernest Hemingway's affection for the town--he lived here for several years and wrote about it in what was posthumously published as "Islands in the Stream." According to one talkative local, he was much loved there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHglglMvssagb8yVczKxvMabKOPojCSWL9zXrWuhIyNyB9AHhjN5MtkyPCocJ6jlheui4hrHBG6rSyk5N-r_vqHsCzrUM4kIBy8Kamd52NkXR3n-jtC8Zkb0UvZc0_Y7WyrUK5/s1600/hemingway_hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHglglMvssagb8yVczKxvMabKOPojCSWL9zXrWuhIyNyB9AHhjN5MtkyPCocJ6jlheui4hrHBG6rSyk5N-r_vqHsCzrUM4kIBy8Kamd52NkXR3n-jtC8Zkb0UvZc0_Y7WyrUK5/s1600/hemingway_hotel.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hotel he stayed at (now gone)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I'm curious to read "Islands" now, to see what Hemingway loved about Bimini. After Evan and I spent a lovely few hours on the terrace of an empty restaurant in Porgy Bay called Sarah's, I have my own idea. Sitting on the shaded patio, looking at the green and blue striped sea, and the terns swooshing white and black, it was as though the coiled up noodle of my brain relaxed and dissolved into my blood, floating throughout my body, no longer trapper in my hard skull, feeling the cool breeze just on the other side of thin skin. Thoughts crossed unhurried, unwilled and completely free.<br />
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Here are some pics...more to come later.<br />
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<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5578068070763084865%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCM2BrovLjc3boQE%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-74375840734418319012011-01-20T19:21:00.001-05:002011-03-03T10:46:11.616-05:00Paradise on Earth<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/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOfupHd2I/AAAAAAAADaY/wYsrTWTQTAQ/s1600/P1030038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOfupHd2I/AAAAAAAADaY/wYsrTWTQTAQ/s320/P1030038.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.jentelarts.org/">Jentel</a> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOjb69voI/AAAAAAAADac/WaFPQ_kL-z0/s1600/P1030039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOjb69voI/AAAAAAAADac/WaFPQ_kL-z0/s320/P1030039.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entrance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I am at an artists' residency called Jentel, which is near Sheridan, Wyoming. I will be here for a month, this magical winter have, nestled in a valley that is surrounded by rippling, ancient seabed hills, all creamy white and ochre and sienna: snow, winter grass, and lightning struck stone. Horses and Angus cows dot the landscape in their thick and shaggy winter coats, impervious to the dry cold.<br />
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The house is beautiful and full of light, space, color and art. I feel incredibly grateful and...inspired? I think that is the word for it: a feeling of complete safety, of being wholly nurtured and appreciated, of being surrounded by incredible beauty, all of which gives rise to wordless giddiness and impatience to write. It feels easy to focus here...it feels <i>good</i>.<br />
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Today was a busy day in town, running errands and seeing some of the local spots. Starting tomorrow, though, I plan on doing nothing but reading, writing, eating, sleeping, snowshoeing, and playing with the various Jentel cats and dogs.<br />
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Here are some recent pics...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjN7eq7HlI/AAAAAAAADZ4/-FozibCXJ-c/s1600/P1030022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjN7eq7HlI/AAAAAAAADZ4/-FozibCXJ-c/s320/P1030022.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Essential in WY (though not in public restrooms)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOAzoDOrI/AAAAAAAADZ8/-2_J9JUW8CA/s1600/P1030020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOAzoDOrI/AAAAAAAADZ8/-2_J9JUW8CA/s320/P1030020.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About to land in Sheridan, WY...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOGfTG0II/AAAAAAAADaA/Xw8s2-gT_UM/s1600/P1030021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOGfTG0II/AAAAAAAADaA/Xw8s2-gT_UM/s320/P1030021.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Landed on snow, despite Sisyphean snowplough trucks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOKUP-82I/AAAAAAAADaE/0m7rNimZ9LU/s1600/P1030032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOKUP-82I/AAAAAAAADaE/0m7rNimZ9LU/s320/P1030032.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling snowy hills</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOPZPkcvI/AAAAAAAADaI/sQeYnekCeT8/s1600/P1030033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOPZPkcvI/AAAAAAAADaI/sQeYnekCeT8/s320/P1030033.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Town park for a few bison and elk </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOTESNuMI/AAAAAAAADaM/1Lr3bVR2S3o/s1600/P1030035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOTESNuMI/AAAAAAAADaM/1Lr3bVR2S3o/s320/P1030035.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little one is sick, according to the man in front of the fence.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOXCElsCI/AAAAAAAADaQ/09fMmZKM4lY/s1600/P1030036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TTjOXCElsCI/AAAAAAAADaQ/09fMmZKM4lY/s320/P1030036.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy's not feeling too hot, either.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tata!Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-35307780358289631262011-01-14T16:11:00.003-05:002011-01-16T22:59:17.515-05:00InversionI have neglected the blog lately, not undeliberately. (Not undeliberately...A former English professor absolutely hated the use of double negatives; if he saw this, he would cross out "not undeliberately" in adamant red ink and write, above the slash, "deliberately." And for the rest of college, I dutifully became more assertive in my essays, cutting out any hint of equivocation or hedging.) But here, I use the double negative quite deliberately (take that, professor!), because it is the only appropriate way to convey the ambivalence I have been feeling about updating the blog. You see, things have been happening very quickly since the last time I wrote, so while there's a lot to update everyone on, it is also a lot to process.<br />
<br />
A bare-bones account of what's been happening: Evan, Susie and I motored a few hours south of Vero Beach (finally left!) to Fort Pierce. Then we drove Susie back up from Florida to New York where my friend Tommy will be taking care of her for the month that I am in Wyoming for my writing residency at Jentel. I leave for that in a few days. <br />
<br />
What's really been happening: It has been a difficult period of taking stock. My last post, it was taking stock of the pluses and negatives of expired food cast-offs. Since then, funny enough, it's been me trying to figure out whether and for how long certain things in my life are tenable, sustaining, or desirable. Will Susie be further traumatized by my absence? Can I afford to continue sailing with Evan? What exactly is my career at this point, what do I want it to be, and am I cultivating it as much as I should be? Those kinds of questions...(i.e. kind of big personal ones).<br />
<br />
The word "inversion" has several definitions, of which these are resonating with me right now for some reason: <br />
<ul class="std" type="disc"><li>anastrophe: the reversal of the normal order of words </li>
<li>(counterpoint) a variation of a melody or part in which ascending intervals are replaced by descending intervals and vice versa </li>
</ul>Cryptic, I know, but voila.Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-39336436267321812232010-12-29T21:03:00.002-05:002011-01-16T23:02:54.254-05:00Sometimes prices accurately reflect worth...Nope, this post is not about Christmas shopping. It's about groceries, yes, yet again. Here in this part of Florida, Publix is the go-to supermarket for most. But there is also Harvest Food & Outreach, a small garage-like building not far from Publix that offers groceries at bargain-basement prices--and you don't have to buy in army-sized bulk, either!<br />
<br />
So what's the catch?<br />
<br />
First, you have to be a member. No problem. Like Costco or BJ's, you just sign up on the spot. Unlike those two megastores, there is no fee. Quite the opposite. You must be needy, or struggling not to be needy. On the membership application, they ask you to check off which form of government assistance you receive--my friend, who already had his membership, falls under disability--or, if I remember correctly, whether you fall within 20% of the poverty line. What a nice non-profit organization, right?<br />
<br />
Well, this is where the second catch comes in. Most of the products on the shelves are past their expiration dates, some well past. Or the boxes have tears in them, giving rise to the suspicion that enterprising rats and roaches may have succeeded in forcing entry. While some products looked like they were rejected for superficial reasons, like crushed corners, smooshed lids, dented cans, the burning question I had was: Is it safe to eat this?<br />
<br />
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8J2pVKQzwLnJXipnIjkHT6WNKYctrUKvep7aeAG2tCVsgZr1UX-0uDY85OgnvrPZxTtgogo9wj7eY-YZ3dS1V456_gxJ4dWxaBakOyhQZVA_6piPeBtamkb-TfhNBQ_csaPXV/s1600/2713554498_5d3c4af5b0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8J2pVKQzwLnJXipnIjkHT6WNKYctrUKvep7aeAG2tCVsgZr1UX-0uDY85OgnvrPZxTtgogo9wj7eY-YZ3dS1V456_gxJ4dWxaBakOyhQZVA_6piPeBtamkb-TfhNBQ_csaPXV/s320/2713554498_5d3c4af5b0.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.flickriver.com/photos/12861589@N03/2713554498/</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I asked a clerk why it's okay to eat something months past its expiration date. She didn't really answer the question but instead said that most of the food came from Publix and Walmart and other groceries after the products had been on their shelves past those companies' policies. Ok, but what do the expiration dates <i>mean</i> if you can disregard them for months? She said if I ate anything and there was a problem with it, I could come return it. Thanks.<br />
<br />
My marina friend saw no problem with eating past expiration dates. He said he got most of his food from Harvest Food, and he couldn't tell the difference. He loved the place! As we went down the aisle, and he threw box after box of old cereal in his cart, pointing out the incredible deal (3 for $4!), I felt compelled to throw a box in for myself out of sheer solidarity. Then I started to discreetly scour everything for <i>un</i>expired products. Bingo! Here was one box of UHT milk that didn't expire until 2011; there was a can of pears in light syrup that was good til 2012; here was a huge selection of Nestle Crunch and Twix and Kit Kat bags that were good til...hey! it's 4 for $2!<br />
<br />
I got into the spirit of it. Bargains abounded, unrotten food hidden amongst them. I steered well clear of the fully cooked (and long expired) pork loin in the fridge--ewwww--and picked out some Pringles that were only a couple months expired. Ok, I'd try it. In fact, expiration dates were probably baloney marketing. Yeah! Just get whatever you want!<br />
<br />
I filled the cart, along with my marina friend. My part of the bill came out to a puny $20. For <i>lots</i> of stuff. Mostly junk food, I have to admit, that I wouldn't otherwise buy. Still, it felt like a great deal, and I thought, again, what a great organization. I was a tourist there, but for people like my marina friend who are on small, fixed incomes, this was a necessity.<br />
<br />
Back on the boat, I unpacked everything and decided to look up why expiration dates exist. Unfortunately, the wifi signal I rely on was on strike, and I was quickly developing internet rage, so I gave up and decided to settle for empirical information. I would sample my goods.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReIF7Gum28AY9-PvJNGPmRPUjW9CIJ6oO33D2qZS7mAt6g6J7XTKBR_2ted211CzVoElnrYkk-0HqJSVdSjapVxde2U1CDK61m9NfWy_7IySULqOw0Ah42vBIBwPYjLJM742b/s1600/1940s-woman-lab_%257El1873.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReIF7Gum28AY9-PvJNGPmRPUjW9CIJ6oO33D2qZS7mAt6g6J7XTKBR_2ted211CzVoElnrYkk-0HqJSVdSjapVxde2U1CDK61m9NfWy_7IySULqOw0Ah42vBIBwPYjLJM742b/s1600/1940s-woman-lab_%257El1873.jpg" /></a></div>Well, the pears in the dented can were yummy. A few had some discoloration, but whatever. Next, I opened the Nestle Crunch and gasped in horror. What's normally a smooth medium brown bar was a chalky crumbly white corpse of a chocolate bar. Eh, probably just presentation, right? I bit into it...and didn't taste chocolate, but something more like...pineapple? Ok, the chocolate had gone off. I opened the can of Pringles Zesty Ranch (or something like that). No crunch at all, taste indeterminable. Without crunch, what good is a potato chip? Then I poured myself a bowl of cereal: Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds (bought at Harvest Food) and lactose-free milk (already in the fridge, from Publix). A strange tinge of sourness but otherwise perfectly fine.<br />
<br />
The next morning, I had another bowl of cereal, this time with the UHT milk I'd bought at Harvest Food, a brand I'd never heard of: Tabatchnik. A few hours later, I was sick and, as we used to say at work to explain without going into detail why someone couldn't come into the office, "I had a stomach thing." I looked around for the culprit and landed on the Tabatchnik milk. Curses! I turned against Harvest Food and started to think how messed up it was that they would sell potentially sickening food to poor people that the for-profit supermarkets had rejected! It was just like those lame supermarkets that don't let you take the shopping cart to the car! I had a whole rant and rave planned!<br />
<br />
Then, when I went to console my tummy with some yogurt, I realized that the fridge was not as cold as it usually is. I looked at the electrics panel, and, sure enough, the switch for the fridge was parked somewhere between ON and OFF. Was the real culprit of my food poisoning the fridge? Everything inside was cool, not cold. Perhaps the lactose-free milk I'd had with my cereal the day before had become host to some nasty bacteria? The sour note of that bowl of cereal took on new significance. Or perhaps it was the UHT milk that had come off the same shelves as some very altered Nestle Crunch and Kit Kat? After all, more than 12 hours had gone by just fine after the first bowl of cereal, whereas only 1 or 2 had with the second one.<br />
<br />
As much as I kind of wanted it to be the UHT milk, because selling rejected and cast-off goods from normal supermarkets to the needy just felt wrong somehow, it wasn't. It was my deadbeat fridge. Still, while I am willing to admit that there is some flexibility around "sell by" dates, since it turns out that they indicate quality, not safety (p.s. the FDA requires expiration dates only on medicine and baby formula), I can't completely get rid of the feeling that products that aren't good enough for the non-needy shouldn't be considered good enough for the needy either. My friend might be okay with it (mind you, he <i>loves</i> bargains and shops at Publix and Albertson's for his fresh stuff), but as one needy woman puts it, <a href="http://www.redding.com/news/2008/dec/29/expired-castoff-food-is-a-slim-form-of-charity/">Expired, castoff food is a slim form of charity.</a><a href="http://www.redding.com/news/2008/dec/29/expired-castoff-food-is-a-slim-form-of-charity/%20"></a>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-82281567762640023762010-12-19T18:32:00.001-05:002011-01-16T23:04:35.330-05:00Quiet Weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3SDcGjCGJkCjRXakF2VuThV8yyRXyXhw43dxdduSef8GGO_kY4Vqg6hMFAXHuEWjQMCiPw1YmHAo3QDfcGcjZGeBl_QV418Korpce1dFzN_hRkYchjnwE888Qg4yn9e302iC/s1600/hitchcock_north_by_northwest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3SDcGjCGJkCjRXakF2VuThV8yyRXyXhw43dxdduSef8GGO_kY4Vqg6hMFAXHuEWjQMCiPw1YmHAo3QDfcGcjZGeBl_QV418Korpce1dFzN_hRkYchjnwE888Qg4yn9e302iC/s320/hitchcock_north_by_northwest.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>I just finished watching the Alfred Hitchcock movie "North by Northwest." The first thing that struck me in the opening scenes (besides the supernaturally glossy, perfectly coiffed and curled hairdos) was that back in the 50s (and most of history, I guess), if you saw a woman in the street, you probably knew exactly what she did. She was a typist, secretary, receptionist, switchboard operator, mother, wife. Wow am I glad things have changed since then. It's pretty amazing, actually.<br />
<br />
Before that, I ran into Mike, the Palin-loving, Obama-hating, the US-is-going-socialist guy I've become unlikely friends with here in the marina. He'd just brought his new kitten home from the ASPCA, so Susie and I went over to his dock to meet her. She was scrappy and hissed at me in my hands when Susie so much as looked at her. I gave her claws back to Mike, and we had a nice morning chat about sanding and oiling, the weather, cats and dogs, Christmas, Chinese buffet, and political asylum. It never ceases to amaze me how little politics matter sometimes, and how people you might otherwise call idiots are perfectly nice and funny and intelligent. I like to think that his political views aren't as fixed as he thinks they are (and I'm sure he's thinking the same about me--or that I'm a nice idiot), and that one day he'll realize that his views contradict truer parts of his character and could better reflect his way of interacting with the world. After all, with me, he's been nothing but easygoing and open. I don't mind that he's misguided, and he doesn't mind that I am either. Why should we when we both love thrift stores?<br />
<br />
Here are some more pics of Susie enjoying the boat. Did I mention that I've trained her to go potty on the astroturf mat on deck?! YES!!!!! Cold windy nights just got a whole lot better. (Though, out of respect for her canine dignity, I have not taken any photos to prove the feat.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHiG4jBdTFxw5fNAR2nDRpWfDJEroC1nulftKW_sgEeKR4iDdpR1tqr_QbZSF4cdYcSmWRp0m15wfuHVMUz__HL5Ovovzfo935tjCW03eGwiDYaYmYZWKWmmZAg3JmQTmsDfu/s1600/susieverodoggiepark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHiG4jBdTFxw5fNAR2nDRpWfDJEroC1nulftKW_sgEeKR4iDdpR1tqr_QbZSF4cdYcSmWRp0m15wfuHVMUz__HL5Ovovzfo935tjCW03eGwiDYaYmYZWKWmmZAg3JmQTmsDfu/s320/susieverodoggiepark.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susie in the big park</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQ6R89Vk4HI/AAAAAAAADYU/rqB0Rv_xck4/s1600/P1030002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQ6R89Vk4HI/AAAAAAAADYU/rqB0Rv_xck4/s320/P1030002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Huh, I'm a hot happy dog...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQ6R9FpWihI/AAAAAAAADYY/ToL5-L0T52o/s1600/P1030004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQ6R9FpWihI/AAAAAAAADYY/ToL5-L0T52o/s320/P1030004.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm coming!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQ6R9gqFooI/AAAAAAAADYc/NGUqeZMxRWo/s1600/P1030006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQ6R9gqFooI/AAAAAAAADYc/NGUqeZMxRWo/s320/P1030006.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mid-head shake...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQ6R965lNFI/AAAAAAAADYg/wwgTFGQbSvU/s1600/P1030007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQ6R965lNFI/AAAAAAAADYg/wwgTFGQbSvU/s320/P1030007.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like having a deck.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-37394061387699369682010-12-16T12:41:00.001-05:002010-12-16T12:51:23.512-05:00Dog Days in Vero Beach, FL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIzxmf17-t5VbdY07OVS5Lyj7ELmlVMTxclrEe-8F-iiwtpTs0E5gG1CHL2ZtioLyKCp2C-A2Xq6PEgpuaTunva2BsKwKjNtqkHw4B7K3ys3oMb9HuxKvV4hn5ZYiwe4L49F39/s1600/P1020996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIzxmf17-t5VbdY07OVS5Lyj7ELmlVMTxclrEe-8F-iiwtpTs0E5gG1CHL2ZtioLyKCp2C-A2Xq6PEgpuaTunva2BsKwKjNtqkHw4B7K3ys3oMb9HuxKvV4hn5ZYiwe4L49F39/s320/P1020996.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It's been several days back in Vero Beach, FL, which has become our home base for the month of December. Boat life has developed a new routine with a dog on board. There is the early morning dinghy ride to land for Susie's morning relief and exercise in the big off-leash park nearby. There is the late afternoon dinghy ride to land for Susie's afternoon relief and walk. And there is the pre-bedtime dinghy ride to land for Susie's evening relief and walk.<br />
<br />
But we are not alone. There are, I am just noticing, plenty of other dog-owning sailors following the same routine. In fact, I've started mistaking dinghy passengers leaning forward, from a distance, for eager-to-pee dogs. After all, the dogs on boats here aren't just little westies and mini collies; there are big chocolate labs, Irish setters, and golden retrievers, too. <br />
<br />
While it might seem out of place for a pit bull to be living on a sailboat, Susie has taken to her new home. She gets to bask in the sun when she wants, cool off in the cabin when the sun's too hot, run around the park to stretch her legs, and snuggle under the table when it's bedtime. All in all, she likes her new environment.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuO9DxGqxDDnAfAB4EqHaskXxG8iL5lK0coqQMj70HL_d9xWZvy4qbfUQCESnl01csStFoW-6I86DreDOnYNPm1fCmiECED34KvY_AhlBnTpiXQgsjI9Od9YML-VwRKVX9Qft/s1600/P1020990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuO9DxGqxDDnAfAB4EqHaskXxG8iL5lK0coqQMj70HL_d9xWZvy4qbfUQCESnl01csStFoW-6I86DreDOnYNPm1fCmiECED34KvY_AhlBnTpiXQgsjI9Od9YML-VwRKVX9Qft/s320/P1020990.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susie looking at me like *I'* look strange...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFoCdHOD2NwaSRnyQ9d90XvfGTsqKCtxExFnY7Uqnj4wDakyZwxVBFdrUES_Wlfxb9uTjqsMbXeIaD9siX_9WE5Dz4F4hJJB5RuxLm_4vgN6pU_dXGs18b6oCyniucpQXDcLb/s1600/P1020982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFoCdHOD2NwaSRnyQ9d90XvfGTsqKCtxExFnY7Uqnj4wDakyZwxVBFdrUES_Wlfxb9uTjqsMbXeIaD9siX_9WE5Dz4F4hJJB5RuxLm_4vgN6pU_dXGs18b6oCyniucpQXDcLb/s320/P1020982.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camera angle stretching Susie out</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOYLK7ucvH5EAMkMptHn5QcFVlgRb7cq4tvPVHAPVI23GaSENKOGR1s3yKMU8ibUY5aNoNyZEKrK56JlLwAc59_LD3wLgWMCOIbNqqd0TC6Azu5yXoB0G5UqvSGVwTxgsXf0M/s1600/P1020997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOYLK7ucvH5EAMkMptHn5QcFVlgRb7cq4tvPVHAPVI23GaSENKOGR1s3yKMU8ibUY5aNoNyZEKrK56JlLwAc59_LD3wLgWMCOIbNqqd0TC6Azu5yXoB0G5UqvSGVwTxgsXf0M/s320/P1020997.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Footwarmer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The same cannot be said for the Enterprise drop-off lady. A few days ago, I was getting a ride back to the marina after dropping off the rental car. The van pulled up, and I got in with another, elderly passenger. The driver, another senior lady, ordered us to put on our seatbelts, and away we went. The elderly passenger, undeterred by the driver's dour demeanor, began to chat with her. She was visiting Vero Beach for the holidays and wasn't it just lovely here!<br />
<br />
Passenger: "I just love it here! There are all sorts of things to do, and everything is so convenient!"<br />
<br />
Enterprise woman: "Really?"<br />
<br />
Passenger: "Oh yes!"<br />
<br />
Enterprise woman: "I'm from Palm Beach, so this seems boring to me."<br />
<br />
Passenger: "Oh. Well, I'm rural, so everything seems exciting to me. But I guess if I were from Palm Beach..."<br />
<br />
Enterprise woman: "And there are no men here..."<br />
<br />
Passenger: "There *are* lots of women. (Pause) I have a family, though, so I guess I'm lucky..."<br />
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After we dropped off the elderly woman at a condo complex, I asked the Enterprise woman how long she'd been in Vero Beach. Ten years, but "I have a feeling something is going to change." She wasn't terribly unhappy here, though she knew she might sound it, but she complained that people in this area don't really like "different thinking people, forward-thinking people," like herself, a former macrobiotic chef.<br />
<br />
I didn't ask her why she's stayed in Vero Beach for 10 years then, because that can be a very difficult question for anyone to answer. I just hope that her feeling about imminent change turns out to be right.Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-66090096260702589752010-12-12T09:54:00.000-05:002010-12-12T09:54:24.823-05:00Susie in the Dinghy<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRtjAu4s74-Mty_Y7ecP8WTgbIb4Y2RArOdyRfYJ2EX7iZHnSw4hxCgu510hhlzxphj_aTaKPCJ6h5nuu9RP8sGHOwlu1Vi0JU6fGpBtX-lZvDwQfxqM6bPi-3Q3s_FLC1GOB/s1600/susiedinghy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRtjAu4s74-Mty_Y7ecP8WTgbIb4Y2RArOdyRfYJ2EX7iZHnSw4hxCgu510hhlzxphj_aTaKPCJ6h5nuu9RP8sGHOwlu1Vi0JU6fGpBtX-lZvDwQfxqM6bPi-3Q3s_FLC1GOB/s320/susiedinghy1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susie points the way back home. Relaxed ears!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-28485516939195730622010-12-10T20:07:00.000-05:002010-12-10T20:07:29.802-05:00Home Sweet HomeAbout a week ago, I flew up to New York to go pick up my dog Susie from the doggie camp where she was staying. I was planning to stay with her while she transitioned to living with my friend Tommy, whom she loves after spending most of my vacations with him. Sadly, as it turns out, personal circumstances in Tommy's life are such that it isn't ideal for Susie to stay with him just yet. So I canceled my return flight to Florida and rented a car for Susie and me. Three-day roadtrip! <br />
<br />
I got online, plotted my nightly stops, reserved rooms at pet-friendly motels, and got ready to listen to lots of NPR. (Turns out that even NPR gets boring real fast. A small observation: the morning lady with the slow, twangy, wobbly voice is *obsessed* with Julian Assange and, I suspect, loves saying his last name.)<br />
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The first day was not so bad. The highlight was driving over the Verrazzano Bridge, seeing the great mouth of NY harbor and the ocean beyond and remembering Evan, Vanessa, and myself on the <a href="http://wanderingbytheway.blogspot.com/2010/09/underway.html">first day of our voyage</a>! It was almost three months ago that we left Liberty Landing Marina and sailed under the bridge for the Jersey Shore. It felt like ages ago. I ended the night at the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/">Sleep Inn at Stoney Creek, VA</a>, which was a great place to stay with Susie. The check-in clerk was very friendly to both Susie and me, with treats for both human and canine. The hotel had a big grassy yard in the back where Susie ran out the kinks of lying still for 7 hours, on and off. The room was big and tidy, and the bathtub was clean. Free breakfast the next morning, too!<br />
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The second day was the pits. Covering the remainder of Virginia, all of North Carolina and South Carolina, and part of Georgia was exhausting. The drive was noteworthy only in that I got to reminisce a little every time I saw a name of a place we had sailed through: Chesapeake, Rappahannock, Cape Fear, Wilmington, Charleston, Beaufort. It was funny watching them zoom by, relatively speaking, after Evan and I had spent months passing through the very same places. They had seemed like such important and momentous arrivals, nothing like the whizz of a name on a green sign. On the ICW, we were also spared gun shop advertisements on the radio (not on NPR, obviously) and ubiquitous religious billboards. <br />
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I slept my second night at the Travelodge in Richmond Hill, just outside Savannah, GA. This was a real motel...not a cheap or economical hotel. A motel. I loved it anyway, once I had the manager fix the curtain, the very end of which wouldn't latch onto the runner, exposing a sliver of my room to the general parking and highway public. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHlyq_lgI/AAAAAAAADXI/GytimZIK3CY/s1600/P1020965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHlyq_lgI/AAAAAAAADXI/GytimZIK3CY/s320/P1020965.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I watched part of <i>Roadhouse</i>, the hilarious part where Patrick Swayze does some sweaty tai chi in some redneck town. Shirtless, of course. And the part where Kelly Lynch, peroxide-blond hair starched out from her temples in true eighties style, watches him kick some goon ass before their first date. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHhartWXI/AAAAAAAADXA/35rsaNPX38U/s1600/P1020959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHhartWXI/AAAAAAAADXA/35rsaNPX38U/s320/P1020959.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHi-jGN4I/AAAAAAAADXE/eOml8hhYQCY/s1600/P1020961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHi-jGN4I/AAAAAAAADXE/eOml8hhYQCY/s320/P1020961.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I woke up in the morning to a bright sunny day behind my red curtain. I couldn't resist taking some pictures.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHnXnJeuI/AAAAAAAADXM/iVuzPmXEV3s/s1600/P1020970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHnXnJeuI/AAAAAAAADXM/iVuzPmXEV3s/s320/P1020970.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHobD5pbI/AAAAAAAADXQ/lMo-k9LzhB0/s1600/P1020974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHobD5pbI/AAAAAAAADXQ/lMo-k9LzhB0/s320/P1020974.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
After taking pictures of the curtain and wall, I drove through the rest of Georgia and half of Florida. I was excited to get to Vero Beach. I realized that while the road trip had been fun in a retro kind of way--and convenient quick travel (three days to cover what Evan and I took months to do on the boat)--I had also had my fill of fast food and asshole drivers. When I arrived, I jumped out of the car, kissed Evan, and promptly introduced Susie to the dog community half a block away from the marina where we are moored. She was elated and made new friends in no time. The yellow life jacket I ordered for her had arrived. See?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12bbklaqH2uEUOiHTmi762Y-1G_zX0PBe32cHf1ibcR8LVDXtB9uVGYFRN2_tKIhvkH7gY5Wj1hpbntsdXvO8o9kl5wtoq5vvhtrMgU9QV1F5cbuZ76gauLhPDqUcgcquw0Z_/s1600/susielifevest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12bbklaqH2uEUOiHTmi762Y-1G_zX0PBe32cHf1ibcR8LVDXtB9uVGYFRN2_tKIhvkH7gY5Wj1hpbntsdXvO8o9kl5wtoq5vvhtrMgU9QV1F5cbuZ76gauLhPDqUcgcquw0Z_/s320/susielifevest.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Before today, Susie had only set foot on a boat once before, and that was a docked boat. But she has adjusted marvelously! I cut up a rubber mat into several pieces to put over the companionway stairs--she skitters down otherwise, banging head or hip first into the table--and, using dried chicken breast as incentive/reward, got her going up and down in perfect safety and style. I'm sure that the calm of boatlife, punctuated by regular visits to the dog field (and maybe swimming lessons in the creek?), will suit her.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHrFD3y1I/AAAAAAAADXU/q5HsZy9P4AU/s1600/P1020980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TQLHrFD3y1I/AAAAAAAADXU/q5HsZy9P4AU/s320/P1020980.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I'm happy to be home, which feels that much more like home now that Susie is here.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-78985233848307744602010-12-02T22:10:00.001-05:002010-12-02T22:13:00.766-05:00I'm Back! (Kinda)The short Thanksgiving reunion with family in Paris was fun, hectic, magical, nostalgic, and *very* cold. It was below freezing most of the time, and it snowed! Not much stuck for longer than an afternoon, but, still, it was the first time I saw snow in Paris.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TPhSB_FGSKI/AAAAAAAADSk/lKucRV9Bx_s/s1600/P1020909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TPhSB_FGSKI/AAAAAAAADSk/lKucRV9Bx_s/s320/P1020909.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TPhR-nF99eI/AAAAAAAADSg/6BDuL8FZh_w/s1600/P1020889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TPhR-nF99eI/AAAAAAAADSg/6BDuL8FZh_w/s320/P1020889.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TPhSFzLz9xI/AAAAAAAADSs/fuB3LjGQc84/s1600/P1020911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TPhSFzLz9xI/AAAAAAAADSs/fuB3LjGQc84/s320/P1020911.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TPhSD2DJUQI/AAAAAAAADSo/XIoa8sxWPDE/s1600/P1020910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TPhSD2DJUQI/AAAAAAAADSo/XIoa8sxWPDE/s320/P1020910.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Paris was a little grimier than I'd left it in 2007, and there were more crazy vagabonds sleeping on the streets and scratching themselves in the subways, but some things were unchanged: every neighborhood had its <i>optique </i>(eyeglass boutique), <i>soins esthetique</i> (mini-spa), <i>pharmacies</i>, and <i>agence immobilier</i> (real estate agency). I was sad, however, to discover that the Vietnamese take-out near my old apartment was gone. The owner was one of my first neighborhood friends, keeping me company and talking my ear off while I blew on my pho.<br />
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Strangely, I didn't feel any sense of homesickness for my former life in Paris until I went to the grocery store. It was the rows of yogurts and Le Petit Marseillais soaps. And later, passing over the Gare du Nord late at night on the number 2 line of the metro: the sight of the trains resting on the rails like great silver serpents has always been one of my favorite things in Paris.<br />
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Now I'm back in Florida, and when in Florida, why not go to Disneyworld?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtisnjyJOamLaJkrOZdKa1rbFtcks8XzP895fGhPVz0tBA9J992PFr2mZcUlymbSucYedIV5yef1zhcRS1Kuc1LlsqHrUjzfcv3QxmcAiL1eEoBjBnu3bNM7osK6HnzyhHYvAP/s1600/P1020943.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtisnjyJOamLaJkrOZdKa1rbFtcks8XzP895fGhPVz0tBA9J992PFr2mZcUlymbSucYedIV5yef1zhcRS1Kuc1LlsqHrUjzfcv3QxmcAiL1eEoBjBnu3bNM7osK6HnzyhHYvAP/s320/P1020943.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Disney charges $18.95 for a 5x7 print, so the above is my pic of the screen showing our shot. Keh keh keh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Soon I'm off to NY for a few days to take care of my dog until my friend Tommy can take over. I can't wait to see my Susie!!!</div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-55060707491784542992010-11-21T21:18:00.000-05:002010-11-21T21:18:09.007-05:00The Space Coast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmk-4obztI/AAAAAAAADQw/DT3tLSs6A10/s1600/P1020824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmk-4obztI/AAAAAAAADQw/DT3tLSs6A10/s320/P1020824.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We've been on the move since St. Augustine, making daily motor-sailing trips through Palm Coast, Titusville, Cocoa Beach, and, today, Melbourne to get to Vero Beach, which is within a reasonable driving distance to the Miami Airport, where I need to catch a flight in a few days. <br />
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This part of Florida is nicknamed the Space Coast because we are near Cape Canaveral. I will remember it more as the land of eye and ear exam office storefronts--and antique shops.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmlBHzybDI/AAAAAAAADQ4/iCaeHo-lo38/s1600/P1020826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmlBHzybDI/AAAAAAAADQ4/iCaeHo-lo38/s320/P1020826.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmk4GeOWzI/AAAAAAAADQo/vw1WNntQklw/s1600/P1020822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmk4GeOWzI/AAAAAAAADQo/vw1WNntQklw/s320/P1020822.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmk7gjQ0pI/AAAAAAAADQs/wDxU2rnr45E/s1600/P1020823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmk7gjQ0pI/AAAAAAAADQs/wDxU2rnr45E/s320/P1020823.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmlIyinfWI/AAAAAAAADRA/JImo80NtEQA/s1600/P1020828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOmlIyinfWI/AAAAAAAADRA/JImo80NtEQA/s320/P1020828.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcjCJLQDeI/AAAAAAAADOM/cuanu-lC6F8/s1600/P1020759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcjCJLQDeI/AAAAAAAADOM/cuanu-lC6F8/s320/P1020759.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcjCgRiFPI/AAAAAAAADOQ/USTQaa0-Y_E/s1600/P1020760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcjCgRiFPI/AAAAAAAADOQ/USTQaa0-Y_E/s320/P1020760.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It seems that people around here are in the gentle process of losing things, or getting rid of things. That said, I can see why aging people choose to stay or come to this part of Florida: the light is just spectacular, the weather is easy, and there is community, like at this really great shuffleboard court, where a regional tournament was underway.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciOuRqXcI/AAAAAAAADLY/D7hZaS7PIrw/s1600/NewSmyrna9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciOuRqXcI/AAAAAAAADLY/D7hZaS7PIrw/s320/NewSmyrna9.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
What's not to like? Especially when there are manatees hanging out in the local marinas!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRT4OzUyUQd7RZV8anIKdfXbBuZ6E7aLW8dvKFTFu988EPC9MyHf3ByBVBtHpiXB-T4KmdR3WaQbSCUReaaVbn1nrEyqDW36hKbxJJzVfL7vr48OvgFnvU1Q3XPLGuYFKYd7mC/s1600/manatee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRT4OzUyUQd7RZV8anIKdfXbBuZ6E7aLW8dvKFTFu988EPC9MyHf3ByBVBtHpiXB-T4KmdR3WaQbSCUReaaVbn1nrEyqDW36hKbxJJzVfL7vr48OvgFnvU1Q3XPLGuYFKYd7mC/s320/manatee.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Here's a slideshow of Titusville, my favorite of the Space Coast towns we've passed through.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5541436164379305617%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCJWos53eivfhrAE%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed></div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-11442075407456927672010-11-21T21:14:00.001-05:002010-11-21T21:16:12.922-05:00Shopping with GaryOn our last full day in St. Augustine, we met up with our friend <a href="http://wanderingbytheway.blogspot.com/search/label/Gary">Gary from Manasquan, NJ</a>--our first good samaritan and lifesaver, who had long beat us down to St. Augustine by car while we poked down the ICW. Gary took us to a colorful spot on Oyster Creek called Hurricane Patty's for lunch, where we caught him up on our travels, and he shared his special blend of funny anecdotes (MaryAnn versus Ginger comes to mind) and thoughtful suggestions/advice.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcitasFaFI/AAAAAAAADME/1A6sfM1f7Fg/s1600/P1020702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcitasFaFI/AAAAAAAADME/1A6sfM1f7Fg/s320/P1020702.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Then he drove us to one of his favorite shops, Sailor's Exchange, which, for anyone who is a packrat, a gearhead, a fixer-upper, a DIYer, or autistic, is absolute paradise. See for yourself.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcit-flDBI/AAAAAAAADMI/4qTuAJqSqs8/s1600/P1020704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcit-flDBI/AAAAAAAADMI/4qTuAJqSqs8/s320/P1020704.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciuRmuoxI/AAAAAAAADMM/58jOzIGkyaQ/s1600/P1020705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciuRmuoxI/AAAAAAAADMM/58jOzIGkyaQ/s320/P1020705.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcivAzYRvI/AAAAAAAADMQ/ey32C-WupnQ/s1600/P1020706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcivAzYRvI/AAAAAAAADMQ/ey32C-WupnQ/s320/P1020706.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciwdQNF-I/AAAAAAAADMY/S1Qa8ywBGd4/s1600/P1020710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciwdQNF-I/AAAAAAAADMY/S1Qa8ywBGd4/s320/P1020710.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciwzOW3pI/AAAAAAAADMc/15K2YhEedLc/s1600/P1020711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciwzOW3pI/AAAAAAAADMc/15K2YhEedLc/s320/P1020711.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcixIVmkGI/AAAAAAAADMg/uzgRJDUjlCc/s1600/P1020712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcixIVmkGI/AAAAAAAADMg/uzgRJDUjlCc/s320/P1020712.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcixktIQAI/AAAAAAAADMk/KiM7aBx1Fqk/s1600/P1020713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOcixktIQAI/AAAAAAAADMk/KiM7aBx1Fqk/s320/P1020713.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciyDhuPuI/AAAAAAAADMo/tIkl5IWU_vE/s1600/P1020714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOciyDhuPuI/AAAAAAAADMo/tIkl5IWU_vE/s320/P1020714.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-44148167741625612092010-11-17T22:17:00.003-05:002010-11-18T18:10:15.627-05:00St. Augustine, FL--Day 1Getting to Florida from NY a few days ago, after nearly two months, felt like a real arrival. Then I looked at the map again and noticed how freakishly long Florida is. In fact, its coastline is 1350 miles, versus California's 840 miles. (Granted, it's a peninsula.) We need to get to West Palm Beach or Miami before we head over to the Bahamas, and that is a long nautical distance away.<br />
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Luckily for us, Florida is a nice place. The light is golden and our hours on the ICW are lined with palm trees, dolphins, herons, egrets, and turtles.<br />
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We spent a few days in St. Augustine, the oldest continually-settled city in the U.S. We visited a fort on the water, Castillo de San Marcos National.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIJtbVL0QI/AAAAAAAADCs/aPtykEnV17M/s1600/P1020556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIJtbVL0QI/AAAAAAAADCs/aPtykEnV17M/s320/P1020556.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIKAyxFLSI/AAAAAAAADDE/uQCoqYuW-R4/s1600/P1020566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIKAyxFLSI/AAAAAAAADDE/uQCoqYuW-R4/s320/P1020566.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The fort has, since 1672, hosted Spanish, British, Confederate, and Union soldiers, plus "relocated" prisoners of war Western Plains Indians.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIJxdtLcDI/AAAAAAAADC0/pM0_zTYGvTs/s1600/P1020561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIJxdtLcDI/AAAAAAAADC0/pM0_zTYGvTs/s320/P1020561.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIJy4PJvmI/AAAAAAAADC4/zActReRMFPI/s1600/P1020562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIJy4PJvmI/AAAAAAAADC4/zActReRMFPI/s320/P1020562.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIJ6qsSgxI/AAAAAAAADC8/y5aBnuqnbzg/s1600/P1020563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIJ6qsSgxI/AAAAAAAADC8/y5aBnuqnbzg/s320/P1020563.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
One might never know the homesickness and utter despair the POWs felt, but their drawings of the homeland and life they were taken from convey all that one needs to understand how inhumane "relocation" was.<br />
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After the fort, we rented bikes and explored the city, trying not to run into or get run over by the ubiquitous tourist-trollies.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIKuVVec0I/AAAAAAAADDw/66_X4c8kPrI/s1600/P1020580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIKuVVec0I/AAAAAAAADDw/66_X4c8kPrI/s320/P1020580.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIK51A48SI/AAAAAAAADEA/efZ-wInM5xQ/s1600/P1020584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIK51A48SI/AAAAAAAADEA/efZ-wInM5xQ/s320/P1020584.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILIT-DdCI/AAAAAAAADEY/94Ipz8EdQTA/s1600/P1020590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILIT-DdCI/AAAAAAAADEY/94Ipz8EdQTA/s320/P1020590.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILUXY1X0I/AAAAAAAADEo/9yV02sYGVO8/s1600/P1020598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILUXY1X0I/AAAAAAAADEo/9yV02sYGVO8/s320/P1020598.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We did see the Oldest House in St. Augustine, dating from around 1706.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILC1HxCGI/AAAAAAAADEM/mZRYLDVVhko/s1600/P1020588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILC1HxCGI/AAAAAAAADEM/mZRYLDVVhko/s320/P1020588.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And I went into the oldest schoolhouse in America, too! (Evan the truant skipped out.)<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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILkLSuvUI/AAAAAAAADE8/0CeI4hCQGvM/s1600/P1020606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILkLSuvUI/AAAAAAAADE8/0CeI4hCQGvM/s320/P1020606.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Schooltime</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILqfFeTNI/AAAAAAAADFE/eJXILC_FPhM/s1600/P1020609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILqfFeTNI/AAAAAAAADFE/eJXILC_FPhM/s320/P1020609.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naughty boys go here...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILs8nKklI/AAAAAAAADFI/KnAE5jk3XwE/s1600/P1020610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILs8nKklI/AAAAAAAADFI/KnAE5jk3XwE/s320/P1020610.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highly entertaining animated wax-figure history lesson</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILwYyQFnI/AAAAAAAADFQ/BM7UUp5yvGQ/s1600/P1020614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOILwYyQFnI/AAAAAAAADFQ/BM7UUp5yvGQ/s320/P1020614.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old schoolteachers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>There were a couple more highlights of the day. The Mission Nombre de Dios was the first Catholic mission established in the U.S.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOINyplzicI/AAAAAAAADHw/z_Ro_smDd3E/s1600/P1020665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOINyplzicI/AAAAAAAADHw/z_Ro_smDd3E/s320/P1020665.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shrine of Our Lady of La Leche</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIOY-FeS1I/AAAAAAAADIU/uPm9fz2xds0/s1600/P1020674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIOY-FeS1I/AAAAAAAADIU/uPm9fz2xds0/s320/P1020674.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The grounds were beautiful. However, they also served to remind us that it's not just Christian fundamentalists who are vociferous in their anti-abortion vocalizations.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOINcXfdw7I/AAAAAAAADHQ/QBhJMEoHC9s/s1600/P1020654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOINcXfdw7I/AAAAAAAADHQ/QBhJMEoHC9s/s320/P1020654.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOINej9rUMI/AAAAAAAADHU/wuSD7y_iG58/s1600/P1020655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOINej9rUMI/AAAAAAAADHU/wuSD7y_iG58/s320/P1020655.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIN1t_yUBI/AAAAAAAADH0/uCDMrZrlAmI/s1600/P1020666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIN1t_yUBI/AAAAAAAADH0/uCDMrZrlAmI/s320/P1020666.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
The last highlight of the day could probably be blamed for some of the sins that the Mission combats, but I liked its look nevertheless: a Howard Johnson motel that could have sprung from the pages of Nabokov's Lolita, with a famous, incredibly gigantic oak tree in the middle of its parking lot.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIPAFggIzI/AAAAAAAADJA/TD7G9tNNO6w/s1600/P1020691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIPAFggIzI/AAAAAAAADJA/TD7G9tNNO6w/s320/P1020691.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIPC7Mi5fI/AAAAAAAADJE/XEkhY0lqKp0/s1600/P1020693.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TOIPC7Mi5fI/AAAAAAAADJE/XEkhY0lqKp0/s320/P1020693.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Here's the full slideshow...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5540000380291656065%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCPKvst6wmO2YKw%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-90489657569468314012010-11-14T09:52:00.001-05:002010-11-14T09:53:30.910-05:00Goodbye, FernandinaWe've moved on to Jacksonville, FL and are headed to St. Augustine, the oldest settled city in the US. Til then, here are some more pics of our time in Fernandina Beach.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_wMWY76UI/AAAAAAAAC-U/K0doZtCTCBY/s1600/P1020484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_wMWY76UI/AAAAAAAAC-U/K0doZtCTCBY/s320/P1020484.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
We walked to the beach then went in search of a certain bike rental shop. That walk, along what is surely the most desolate proof that the nation's housing bubble is *still* not over, at least in FL, felt like a 40-day desert test. No shade, no bench, no eye candy. If anything, every 500 feet, crappy and mcmansion-y houses were for sale, starting prices a hallucinogenic $700K.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_wgKmceSI/AAAAAAAAC-o/AMIRCLNhKBQ/s1600/P1020489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_wgKmceSI/AAAAAAAAC-o/AMIRCLNhKBQ/s320/P1020489.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_wkPfChNI/AAAAAAAAC-w/h1c0tQMhgmE/s1600/P1020492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_wkPfChNI/AAAAAAAAC-w/h1c0tQMhgmE/s320/P1020492.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
But then we finally got there, signed the rental papers, and zipped off on an electric bike-scooter. The rest of the afternoon was fun in Fort Clinch State Park, where we ran around the fort (thankfully hands-off in its tourist philosophy) and then stalked armadillos and bobcats in the lush forest nearby.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_28Yslo6I/AAAAAAAADBU/QantjETrSS4/s1600/IMG_1157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_28Yslo6I/AAAAAAAADBU/QantjETrSS4/s320/IMG_1157.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_wl22Zy3I/AAAAAAAAC-0/W5bDODgL8j8/s1600/P1020493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_wl22Zy3I/AAAAAAAAC-0/W5bDODgL8j8/s320/P1020493.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_xenblFAI/AAAAAAAADAI/4UIyitcWPK0/s1600/P1020520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TN_xenblFAI/AAAAAAAADAI/4UIyitcWPK0/s320/P1020520.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Here's the full slideshow:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5539409944198221473%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCNXi7P7I4v6DCQ%26hl%3Den_US" height="267" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400"></embed> </div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-60762518082291544742010-11-12T10:15:00.000-05:002010-11-12T10:15:15.268-05:00Fernandina Beach, FL<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5538677745953460769%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCMHL6Pqz_on12AE%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-8708748019449175662010-11-10T19:12:00.004-05:002010-11-12T10:20:36.952-05:00Our Hitchhiker FriendBefore we left Charleston, a young stranger approached the boat in the marina. He introduced himself and said that he was looking to crew on a sailboat going south. He had just come in from Virginia on a catamaran, but that boat had crew lined up for the next leg. Neither Evan nor I was inclined to invite a stranger to spend days and nights with us on the boat, helpful though it always is to have extra hands on deck. Apparently, this kind of arrangement is common enough, but we politely declined and set out on our second off-shore overnight trip.<br />
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Twenty-nine hours later, we'd motor-sailed 175 nautical miles (or 200 "statute" aka land miles) from Charleston, SC to Fernandina Beach, Amelia Island, FL.<br />
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It was perfect weather for motor-sailing: very light wind, calm water with the occasional swell from a distant weather system. Evan and I listened to the soft hiss of the boat's wake spreading out ripples of quick-dying froth across the sea. The sound resembled a snake's hissing, its flickering tasting and smelling exploration of something unidentifiable in the air. We sailed past blooms of mushroom jellyfish that really did look like baby portabellas.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TNsbkJZ-qbI/AAAAAAAAC3A/V1DFw-QOP5Y/s1600/P1020359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TNsbkJZ-qbI/AAAAAAAAC3A/V1DFw-QOP5Y/s400/P1020359.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We saw at least four or five dolphins too, a few of which surfaced so close to the boat out of the blue that I yelped. They didn't hang out much after that, even though I apologized for the rude welcome.<br />
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Along with terns and pelicans, we noticed a small bird fluttering in crazy swoops. It was clearly not a seafaring bird--it looked like a swallow, or some other bird that should be hanging out in bushes and shrubs, hopping around on the ground for seeds or something. We worried that the poor thing was somehow lost and would just wear itself out if it didn't find someplace to land. It flew close to the boat a few times but didn't land, and we eventually outpaced it.<br />
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Lo and behold, not long before sunset, almost an hour after we first spotted it, the small swallow-like bird landed on the stern rail! Then it hopped onto the covered fender, which was easier to keep hold of than the slippery metal rail.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TNsbn_vIs6I/AAAAAAAAC3I/9jx1Sw-qDNo/s1600/P1020365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TNsbn_vIs6I/AAAAAAAAC3I/9jx1Sw-qDNo/s400/P1020365.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TNsbyyBqO8I/AAAAAAAAC3g/XSZkKRayOJs/s1600/P1020374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TNsbyyBqO8I/AAAAAAAAC3g/XSZkKRayOJs/s400/P1020374.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>It explored that section of the cockpit before taking off in a mad flutter behind the boat, up into the sky, and then back onto the boat! This happened over and over again, each time its stay on the boat a little longer than the last. Finally, the bird hopped over to Evan and me and onto our feet, our knees, our arms. Even though it weighed no more than a couple of ounces, I could feel its weight where it perched on me. It flew away again.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACj-ClxFWiU56DRKtEYxOT06imNBviYtJzewmSjPFbRXaT2EYFtUGSWS8bds3nOjk8E6ulNvmj8l4IsU3w1anJgbLUaIb25wfrSZmTXA44tQljfxVH7qf5ggJiDfYnR3NQWfj/s1600/otto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACj-ClxFWiU56DRKtEYxOT06imNBviYtJzewmSjPFbRXaT2EYFtUGSWS8bds3nOjk8E6ulNvmj8l4IsU3w1anJgbLUaIb25wfrSZmTXA44tQljfxVH7qf5ggJiDfYnR3NQWfj/s400/otto.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Next time, it walked around us like we'd known each other since land--"hey, got anything to eat?"--and hung out on the floor of the cockpit, pecking at whatever uncleaned mess dwelled down there and the fresh water we'd put out. Then, as the sun went down, Otto (we named him after the seventh visit or so) hopped into the cabin and, after checking out different areas a couple times, settled down next to a wadded-up fleece blanket on the settee, and, puffing his feathers, went to sleep.<br />
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He stayed asleep the whole night, even with our comings and goings and the constant crackle of the radio. At first light, while I was napping, Otto woke up and paid Evan a visit in the cockpit, did a couple of his usual swoops off and on the boat, then didn't come back. We missed him during the day and hoped that the rest he'd had would at least give him some juice for the six mile flight back to land. Later in the afternoon, we were glad to hear a woman on the radio announce that a yellow-breasted bird had come into her cabin. I hope it was Otto!<br />
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Besides the excitement of making friends with Otto (who, as internet research reveals, was probably a female <a href="http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/carolina_wren/id">Carolina wren</a>), Evan and I fell into a smooth rhythm for the night watch. Once the moon set a little bit before 9pm, we took turns standing watch, one person keeping an eye for other boats in the night, listening to the VHF radio, and monitoring the autopilot for deviations from our plotted course. We found it easy to stay awake during our turns at watch, easy to fall asleep when our turn was over, and easy to wake up on our own when it was time to switch. Thankfully, the night wasn't as cold as I'd feared, and I was warm and toasty in my layers. Also, my Kindle with its built-in cover light came in very handy for keeping me alert: every 5-7 minutes or so, I'd read a few pages, cover the light (to get back my night vision), scan the horizon, check the GPS, and resume reading, ears pricked for radio communication. It was fun.<br />
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Now we're on a mooring in Fernandina Beach, FL. The sun has just set, so I'm going to go to bed soon. My head feels like a cracked bronze bell that's been stuffed with wool and packed away in a dusty crate.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5538050305717963585%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCPDfx4yCv_i9Cw%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed></div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-23794508372093306442010-11-08T00:26:00.001-05:002010-11-12T10:21:04.746-05:00Charleston, or Beauty isn't Everything<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RbhS5fhvJdM8HqsItc10zvrSY6mZYjqfpH8V-hcCBEj757Dc8arhGTN_aySUOC2BLF5PznGTeWaZKUHDOUhhazr-tzLVtMVEFAHClq37XrZo5LYyGQJ8bpcFO1mctdWZMXY3/s1600/P1020335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RbhS5fhvJdM8HqsItc10zvrSY6mZYjqfpH8V-hcCBEj757Dc8arhGTN_aySUOC2BLF5PznGTeWaZKUHDOUhhazr-tzLVtMVEFAHClq37XrZo5LYyGQJ8bpcFO1mctdWZMXY3/s400/P1020335.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Charleston is the equivalent of a very beautiful, lazy, spoiled heir who never worked a day in his whole life. The very beautiful and graceful mansions, homes, and churches in their charming alleys and streets attest to the leisure and privilege of colonists-turned-planter millionaires who owed their wealth to the exploitation of slave labor, or "enslaved people" (more on this below).<br />
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(After the Civil War, Charleston's wealth came from banking and the stock market. But it was still dirty money. After all, it takes money to grow money, and most of Charleston's money that went into banking was old planter money.)<br />
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So, as beautiful as the city is, I can't help but feel some revolt, like when I visited the Vatican several years ago. The Vatican was the richest and most opulent place I had ever seen--it made Versailles look like a barn in comparison--and the Sistine Chapel was indeed breathtaking. But it was also a gross display of the wealth that the Roman Catholic Church could only amass by manipulating tenant-nobles and exploiting uneducated peasants.<br />
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To return to the term "enslaved people," I found it somewhat odd that our tour guide at Drayton Hall plantation was using this to describe slaves. She also used the term "enslaved laborers." A little digging around on the internet later, it appears that the terms she used are the current politically correct terms. I had no idea. I understand the intention and motivation behind "enslaved people;" namely, to emphasize that the slaves were, first and foremost, <i>people, </i>who, circumstantially, happened to be enslaved. There is a fair amount of debate, though--"enslaved people" versus "slaves."<br />
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For me, the question is, which term better accurately describes the injustice experienced? My first instinct is "slaves." No mention of the word "people" drives home the point that at that time, slaves were not considered people at all<i>. </i>They were chattel, or personal property like a chair or a horse. As a word, "slaves" leaves no room for euphemism or illusion.<br />
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That said, there is an argument against using the word "slaves" because it is grounded in the perspective of the slaveowner. That is, just because slave traffickers and owners didn't consider slaves to be people doesn't mean the word we now use to refer to slaves should reflect that too. "Enslaved people" restores humanity--and linguistic neutrality--where "slaves" does not.<br />
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I think I don't like "enslaved people" simply because it is incomplete. People who are enslaved are enslaved <i>by somebody</i>. Who? But perhaps this is the point: using "enslaved people" begins a dialogue, one that covers not only white planters and traders in the South, African traffickers in Africa, but also the slaves themselves and their lives before they were slaves. As long as this was a dialogue that was opened by African-Americans, cool. Otherwise, it would be like a convicted grand larcenist who had made off with hundreds of millions pointing his finger at the bank employee he'd paid a couple of million dollars to give him the account numbers and passwords he stole from. Ok, but, in the total scheme of the crime, it doesn't make him that much less culpable, does it?<br />
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Like a snowball turns into an avalanche, the day I really started to be bothered by all this, I also had a Hispanic tour guide in the Calhoun Mansion ask me if I could read Chinese. I said, nope. I'm not Chinese. He replied, "So you can't read Chinese? Where are you from?" I was going to say "New York, Korean by ethnicity," but he cut me off and said, "So you don't read Asian? Fine, I thought you could help by reading Asian but nevermind." !!!!! THE STUPIDITY!!!!!!<br />
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On a happier note, the food here has been amazing, the sky has been crisp and blue, and we ran into friends we'd made back in the Dismal Swamp Canal. We'll stay for another day or two, then off to Florida.<br />
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Slideshow.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5537035691532829825%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCJKI7KK5qcyWYg%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed><br />
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</div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-86041327174760851742010-11-02T11:17:00.002-04:002010-11-12T10:21:28.974-05:00Easy morning, anti-swamping<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TNAbRvwxDrI/AAAAAAAACv4/rLVxERxFiKc/s1600/IMG_1567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TNAbRvwxDrI/AAAAAAAACv4/rLVxERxFiKc/s320/IMG_1567.JPG" width="138" /></a></div><br />
I woke up this morning to birds chattering and squawking (crows) and tooting (the one pictured above) right outside the open hatch. I opened my eyes and saw the belly of a blackbird fly over. Evan came over from the computer, where he was checking the weather conditions for the day, and told me that there would be strong winds today, 20-25 knots (10-15 is fine, 20 iffy, 25 gale-like). We could go out and have an uncomfortable six hours going through marsh stretches of the ICW, which are completely exposed to the wind without any real treeline barriers, hoping that the wind wouldn't blow us, despite our best efforts at the helm, out of the channel and into some shoals.<br />
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That's the worst-case scenario, of course. Actually, that's just the tip of the worst-case scenario iceberg. The rest of the worst-case scenario is swamping: one gets grounded in a shoal at high tide, the water level falls as the tide goes out, leaving you stranded like the bird in my picture, the boat's keel gets wedged deeper into the mud bottom at a strange angle, and by the time the tide turns again, the boat is so stuck that it lacks the buoyancy to float back upright with the rising water, which instead floods the boat and causes extensive damage.<br />
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Swamping would have been unlikely today, but we're still going to wait out the windy day. The next two days are forecasted to be cold and rainy, and we'd prefer to arrive in Charleston in good weather, hop off the boat, fresh as daisies, and stroll around town all day. So we'll be here in McClellanville for a few days more. Corn muffins, huevos rancheros, lots of reading and writing, full seasons of Weeds and the Wire...I'm pretty happy.<br />
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This is home for the next couple of days.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5534696470753633937%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCL7c3IOklZOhjAE%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed></div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-8097346231728760202010-11-01T18:41:00.002-04:002010-11-02T11:19:09.510-04:00Entering South Carolina<span id="goog_410669759"></span><span id="goog_410669760"></span><br />
<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;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8xIF825UI/AAAAAAAACqo/7Pa3QJafsx0/s320/IMG_1493.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turkey vulture</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8xIF825UI/AAAAAAAACqo/7Pa3QJafsx0/s1600/IMG_1493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8xV9GBWrI/AAAAAAAACrI/3d4F67OXa7A/s1600/IMG_1502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8xV9GBWrI/AAAAAAAACrI/3d4F67OXa7A/s320/IMG_1502.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Since my last post, Evan and I have traipsed on south out of North Carolina and into South Carolina, a truly charming place with salt marshes, palms, huge live oaks covered in Spanish moss, and, so far, nothing but balmy breezes. There are ospreys and egrets and blue herons, the latter of which are graceful and beautiful until they open their mouths and let out an incredibly loud "RAAAAAWK!!!"<br />
<br />
There is also mini-golf in North Myrtle Beach, which hosts the pro mini-golf Masters. Highway 17 is where it's at, and we couldn't help but get sucked into...the Molten Mountain. We were, after all, getting some lettuce at the supermarket just across the street!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0x5UtUTTdWviEoGhtqQ5D-zCpmihTQnuQf69HSi7bEWsnGSmc7YfITPhH2RDjgYmUHP3BdYoNg_jA8oXWmW-oI7XnsN7zRwUsncoIeYTG3K3kCIHa4e1xOaKR1b4tZ9FtdmO_/s320/moltmtn.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.cancunlagoongolf.com/mmhome.html</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDAQnozYaEn6lNOU4x1IVa9rjbGQiYw5JeoOOm3DpPQIWDHIO8U6GOiII_qdi6XAEsWDmcarjqJ7pLL8RfLOEhyphenhyphenKqifH-WW1K2ki2hMvAhnu0KXp5mWooaHgUPWbjeJB4BAFLn/s320/minigolf.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surveying the lay of the land</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We played a round, which was moderately fun despite the astro-turf funk and occasional retrieval of a golf ball from dry ice-steaming Kool-Aid blue streams. As we left Molten Mountain, the building-volcano erupted in a pyrotechnic blaze. So much flash for a mediocre mini-golf course! Oh well.<br />
<br />
Onwards to the Waccamaw River, where the highlight was a joke from the former "male dancer" cab driver who took us from the Wacca Wache Marina to CVS:<br />
<blockquote>"So there's this drunk. He's married but goes out drinking with his buddies every night. One night, he comes home carrying a chicken under his arm. His wife opens the door, and he says, "This is the pig I've been fucking." She looks at him scornfully and says, "You idiot, that's a chicken" to which he replies, "I was talking to the chicken."</blockquote>Today, we arrived in McClellanville, SC, a tiny southern shrimping town with a population of 516, as of July 2009. This is how we spent the afternoon:<br />
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I climbed a great live oak.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where'd she go?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8xnEjI8yI/AAAAAAAACrw/REOuoYJOF0s/s320/IMG_1513.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the treetop..</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8xnEjI8yI/AAAAAAAACrw/REOuoYJOF0s/s1600/IMG_1513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>I swung on a tire-swing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxuuk2DCL20s5W5B44Jr8Zg-Dzii9d5koWGJAq5U_SSzu0ZWX085DxQgkW2Wh5xcHE_YfNcWNGcXO7i0j1436pRGAIE2aTzJtobOGErYjkP4nMTaw_8ZBH6SMYdKr0mk40cP0/s1600/tireswing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxuuk2DCL20s5W5B44Jr8Zg-Dzii9d5koWGJAq5U_SSzu0ZWX085DxQgkW2Wh5xcHE_YfNcWNGcXO7i0j1436pRGAIE2aTzJtobOGErYjkP4nMTaw_8ZBH6SMYdKr0mk40cP0/s320/tireswing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We walked around town: trees and houses, two restaurants, and a couple of shops.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8x9pdCoKI/AAAAAAAACsY/maxZBf2XCVM/s1600/IMG_1523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8x9pdCoKI/AAAAAAAACsY/maxZBf2XCVM/s320/IMG_1523.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8yH1YcyXI/AAAAAAAACss/nrjuuXWzjB8/s1600/IMG_1528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8yH1YcyXI/AAAAAAAACss/nrjuuXWzjB8/s320/IMG_1528.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8yV_qRI3I/AAAAAAAACtE/lQVQjmK53WY/s1600/IMG_1534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8yV_qRI3I/AAAAAAAACtE/lQVQjmK53WY/s320/IMG_1534.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driftwood sculpture and art gallery</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8ypRn1MHI/AAAAAAAACts/234F0ZNBkOc/s1600/IMG_1545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The main drag.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8ycBN55JI/AAAAAAAACtU/LrpopIB6qE4/s1600/IMG_1538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect for Halloween</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8yeXXia2I/AAAAAAAACtY/Wwssa-EiUR0/s1600/IMG_1546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><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;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8yvIV2FFI/AAAAAAAACuE/SE9tqrqPYDM/s320/IMG_1549.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spanish moss grows on *everything.*</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TM8yvIV2FFI/AAAAAAAACuE/SE9tqrqPYDM/s1600/IMG_1549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>And Evan found another tire-swing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilhQEFm4diQtYSqvtyGtKTPo9al_5Tr8Ny0da1HktOX1LDNKPmS86FgomJEIsF7tQZRDGfEqP-6iGAhfq3_-acuNpYldTJ-JyVfDQBbCtoRHcj0NDTyxOdQ-_oL4q9w2KeyO_/s1600/tireswingev.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilhQEFm4diQtYSqvtyGtKTPo9al_5Tr8Ny0da1HktOX1LDNKPmS86FgomJEIsF7tQZRDGfEqP-6iGAhfq3_-acuNpYldTJ-JyVfDQBbCtoRHcj0NDTyxOdQ-_oL4q9w2KeyO_/s320/tireswingev.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Tomorrow, we head to Charleston! We'll spend at least 4 days there, soaking in some southern Creole style.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-27781931123090130162010-10-30T11:19:00.002-04:002010-11-12T10:22:02.279-05:00Last images of NC<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5534716999724722673%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCNXs15X96qLNggE%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-88846900503411304722010-10-28T18:45:00.002-04:002010-10-28T19:00:00.352-04:00DrivingEvan and I were in Wilmington, NC a few days ago. We stayed two nights, hoping to rest up and recharge after the day-in, day-out motoring from Oriental, NC. Alas, we did not get much rest. It turns out that when back on land, and in a city, we relapse into pre-cruising mentality and go about from one thing to the next to the next.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>These things in Wilmington being: catching up with a Wilmingtonian friend I had met in NY this past spring; going to the movies; shopping for shorts (impossible to find at this time of year!) and a puffy jacket (I'll be meeting the family for Thanksgiving in a cold place); grocery shopping; doing laundry; boat stuff shopping; restaurant sampling.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Then we got on the boat and spent 7 hours glued to some task or another: spying confusing channel markers (whose brilliant idea was it to paint the marker number <i>nearly the same color</i> as the signboard itself?); keeping an eyeball glued to the depth sounder; steering against very choppy waters in Snow's Cut and Cape Fear River; making lunch without sustaining too many bruises. It wasn't the worst sailing we've seen by a stretch--it was actually fun at times in the way that driving over a really gravelly road at high speed can be fun--but it was not relaxing. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So, once we arrived here in Southport, we decided to take a few days off. We were tired, plus the weather forecast for boating wasn't great for the next few days anyway. Now I don't want to sound like cruising isn't as amazing as most people think it is--how can you complain about taking off on a sailboat, you ask--but driving a boat through shallows and currents and traffic requires all the same concentration and undivided attention as driving a car, if not more. Do that 7 hours a day for a few days in a row, and one's bound to be a little tired.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Oh, for wide easy waters where we can use our auto-pilot...</div><div><br />
</div><div>In the meantime, I am perfecting my banana bread and asparagus/portobello risotto, and getting some writing done. (It turns out that the forward berth doubles quite nicely as a private place to write too.) I am also stalking the giant blue heron that hangs out in this marina sometimes. And, of course, listening to <a href="http://svannalivia.com/things-that-crackle-in-the-night">snapping shrimp (Evan explains).</a></div></div><div><br />
</div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6977598.post-52802623999089965882010-10-25T01:44:00.000-04:002010-10-25T01:44:18.711-04:00Oriental, NC<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/_LMx_8kBZesM/TMSoHa6flrI/AAAAAAAACkA/5rOLRzecQZ4/s1600/P1020195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TMSoHa6flrI/AAAAAAAACkA/5rOLRzecQZ4/s320/P1020195.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My surprise birthday brownie may belie it, but I turned 33. </td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TMSoICJtktI/AAAAAAAACkE/KExX5vQzGDE/s1600/P1020196.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LMx_8kBZesM/TMSoICJtktI/AAAAAAAACkE/KExX5vQzGDE/s320/P1020196.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I spent my birthday a few days ago in a friendly town called Oriental, NC. It was a very pleasant town, and we ran into a whole bunch of fellow cruisers we've met along the way. There were plenty of jarring moments, though, as I walked around, for every other billboard or store sign has the word Oriental in it.<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">See, starting from when I was in high school, the word "oriental" became a big no-no. "Oriental" was an adjective to be used to describe objects from "the Orient" (which, confusingly in British English, included pretty much everything east of Europe) like vases or rugs, <i>not people</i>. I cringed if someone said, "My son married an Oriental." As people started using the term "Asian" to describe people from Asian countries, anyone who used "Oriental" to refer to an Asian person was obviously either really old (too old to get with the PC program), lived nowhere near Asian people, or was racist. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Thing is, there is nothing Oriental, or Asian, or east of European, about Oriental, NC or any of the establishments there! Weird and a little hilarious! (Why the name Oriental then? Apparently, the town was originally Smith Creek, but was renamed after the USS Oriental shipwreck nearby in 1899. Perhaps the ship was headed East?) I turned off the PC-radar, which was going haywire.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I went to get a haircut at the local salon Studio 55 and fell to chatting with my hairdresser, the septuagenarian customer next to me, her hairdresser, and the nails and facial lady, too, who was, by the way, the only Asian I've seen in NC so far. We talked about hair, bronzing a pair of 15-year old boots, cruising, and teeth.<br />
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Septuagenarian Catherine: "I may be old, but I have perfect teeth. My dentist asked me the other day if I'd been drinking tea again."<br />
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Her stylist, Mary: "What? Tell me, 'Am I a Southern woman?'!"<br />
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</div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My haircut, which you can see in the picture above, cost me just $18 plus tip.<br />
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After Oriental, we moved on to Morehead City, just across from Beaufort, then on to a beautiful anchorage in the Marine base Camp Lejeune. Now we are in Masonboro, just outside Wilmington, NC, for a few days before going into South Carolina. Here are some recent pics:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fjcgamine%2Falbumid%2F5531731076376325729%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26authkey%3DGv1sRgCPWkoreC0_KQ4QE%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div>Wanderingbythewayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07830555590867975223noreply@blogger.com0