Dunedin, Florida

We drove down to Florida to be with Megan as she navigates the procedures for kicking multiple myeloma. She is being treated at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville where she was selected to participate in a new research project that involves some of her blood being genetically modified to fight the specific cancer that has been with her now for more than two years.  We met her here in Jax for lunch and dinner last week, and then she went home to North Port to get things organized before driving back to Jacksonville where we will be for five or six weeks.

We wanted to be close to her, but not so close as to make her feel like we needed to be entertained; we just wanted to be close enough that if we were needed we could be there in under two hours.  We elected to go to Dunedin, on the west coast of Florida about thirty minutes northwest of Tampa on the Gulf of Mexico. We had been there once about five years ago and had dim memories of it being a nice place. We stayed at a hotel right on the marina and a five minute walk to the lovely downtown. After changing rooms three times in fifteen minutes due to a reservation snafu, we set off to explore. It is an old city that has managed to retain its charm despite tourism.  We like it because it doesn’t have any beaches, which means no beach bums and very few children.

Right behind our hotel we noticed a small street facing the gulf that has about twelve of the most beautiful old homes you can imagine. They all have long docks so as to be able to launch their boats at low tide and huge manicured grounds leading to their front porches. In between is a sidewalk and a narrow road so there is public access all along the water - at least visually - there are signs making it clear that the docks are not public.  One home - we looked it up on Zillow - is set on 4.6 acres with ten bedrooms and huge porches front, back and side.  The other houses, no two of which are the same, are less grand but equally elegant. It was a particularly nice place to walk and run in the morning.

The town is divided by Alt. Route 19, which runs up the coast from Clearwater to beyond Tarpon Springs. On one side is the town itself and on the other a marina which houses our hotel and two restaurants, one fancy and the other an open-sided beer bar. Both offer great views and good food and very different menus at VERY different prices.  We ate in the fancy place the first night and while the food was good and the service exceptional, it was far too sterile for our taste. The other restaurant also houses a fresh fish market and their fish was delicious, simply prepared and served in paper-lined plastic baskets at a third the price of the fancy joint. We ate there a few times and always enjoyed the food, wine, views, all of which changed daily.

The downtown was a single street, Main Street to be precise, lined with cutesy shops which cater to tourists, and bars and restaurants which for the most part cater to the locals.  Splitting the town down the middle is the Pinellas Trail, a biking/walking path that was created from the old railroad bed that went from St. Petersburg to Tarpon Springs, offering 47 miles of excellently maintained surface. I walked a lot of it during our time there and was amazed at how polite and courteous all of those using it were to one another, quite civil.

One day we decided to drive to Tarpon Springs, a place we had visited more that thirty years ago. Our only memory was that it was very Greek due to the fact that there were/are lots of sponges in the waters of the Gulf and in the 1900s many Greeks came over to collect and sell them. On the way there we stopped at an optician to see about getting my two pairs of glasses repaired. The day we were leaving to drive to Florida I lost the nose rest on one pair and the lens popped out of the new frames on another pair that I had purchased just the day before. I explained what I needed to the young receptionist and she asked us to have a seat. Ten minutes late she came out with everything all fixed and the glasses cleaned. I ask her how much I owed her and she smiled and said, “Nothing, I’m just happy I was able to help you.” And me without a lollipop!

We did an inadvertent tour of most of Tarpon Springs before finding the tourist area, which was pretty much as we had remembered it. Tons of ticky-tacky shops selling - yes you guessed right - sponges. Not just sponges but sponges in every shape you can imagine and for every purpose. There were sponge vases, hats, bowls for soap - everything except square pants. We wandered around the harbor, admiring the working boats and enjoying the smells of fresh bread coming from the Hellas Bakery, a huge commercial place that bakes for all of Florida’s Greek restaurants (of which there are many). 

A month or two ago Cindy had been given a new handbag from Megan and Valley and she wanted me to put a new hole in the strap so that it rested better on her hip. While I was perfectly prepared to do this for her, I also knew that I would take away from the overall good looks of the bag, so upon entering a little gift shop and smelling fresh leather, I suggested we see if they could do it. A wonderfully friendly young owner was only too pleased to help and in no time he had professionally punched a hole right were Cindy wanted it. He would not take any money for the service so I purchased a small leather bag for myself to hold all the stuff I would be needing at the Mayo Clinic. Again we marveled at how kind all the shop owners seemed to be.

We selected a very Greek looking restaurant, Hellas (owned by the same family for thirty-eight years) and as we stepped in we were transported back to Greece. The smells, colors, and cacophony of music along with people talking and yelling orders, was marvelous.  We immediately remembered that it was the same restaurant where we had eaten on our first visit so many years ago. We started with Ouzo, which was not on the menu but we knew if it was really Greek they would have it - and it was delicious.  We then ordered skordalia, an appetizer of cold mashed potatoes with tons of garlic served with the very best fresh warm pita bread from their bakery. Then came two small appetizer portions of grilled octopus and a plate of grilled lamb riblets, both sporting fresh sauces of lemon, garlic and parsley. Oh my goodness were they ever tasty. After lunch we walked over to a little shack that advertised Cuban coffee, cigars and sandwiches. The owner, who spoke no English despite his family being in the same location for eighty years and he having personally run this shop for 18 years, made us a truly rich and flavorful Cuban coffee which was the perfect ending to a perfect luncheon.

On the way back to Dunedin we stopped at a local jeweler we had noticed on our walks. One of Cindy’s rings had a problem with one of the prongs catching on clothes and she wanted to find out if they could fix it. The clerk looked at it, stepped into the back and asked the jeweler about it, and returned in a few minutes with it fixed perfectly. At no charge! How do they make money in this area?

Best to all,  Cindy and Wm

Nice September longform

We have come to Nice many times but always in the cold months. We thought we would try it in the warmer months to see what it was like so we came for ten days in early September.  BIG MISTAKE!!

This is not our Nice, it is the Nice of sun lovers, party animals, families, Russians, Scandinavians, and others in search of the last rays of sunlight to tan their hides.  It is horrible and to be avoided.  We arrived on a Friday and our Uber driver told us that starting the next day there was an Ironman competition with 57,000 participants. Saturday was for the women and Sunday for the men, which meant that our precious Promenade was to be closed for two days.  The horror!

We settled into our AirBnB which was roomy but basic and lacking most things needed for a ten day stay. It set the tone for the next ten days, which were to be less than perfect. On Saturday morning we tried to go to the Promenade but were rebuffed by marshals protecting the rights of the runners and bikers. We walked instead on the main streets of Nice, which were clogged with support people and tourists. The next day we decided to not even try the Promenade and instead walked up to the top of a park that is two miles above sea level, or so it seemed as we walked and walked and walked on switchback paths.  We finally got to the top and there were no views of anything, just trees, a thousand dogs off-leash, and sincere hikers with arms and legs like a Michelangelo detailed anatomy sketch. Our legs were aching and we couldn’t for the life of us figure out whose idea it was to do this insanity!

We finally got home, fueled by an exceptional cup of real Italian espresso, and then cleaned up for our Sunday lunch.  I’m a sucker for Sunday Lunches.  I remember living in Italy and after the church services, extended family groups would go to a trattoria and spend three to four hours eating, drinking, laughing and generally having a ball.  We found a perfect place near Place Liberation that we had noticed for years and made a reservation.  We had to wait for thirty minutes but there was a bar and I enjoyed a pastis while observing the dynamic of the restaurant.  It was a mixed bag from singles to extended families all served by experienced waiters who moved with the precision of ballet dancers, twisting and turning with a fluidity that sometimes seemed to defy gravity. From my perch at the bar, I could also observe the two barmen filling orders with the speed and alacrity of a well tuned pit crew.  It was a most acceptable way of spending thirty minutes. 

Our luncheon was spectacular!  A shared dozen fresh oysters, the freshest tuna you can imagine done to perfection (for me), and an avocado and gambas salad for Cindy which she declared divine. Rosé for me, Chablis for Cindy - and groans of contentment filled our corner of the room.  We wandered home in a haze of satisfaction and took a well-deserved nap for an hour or so, establishing a routine for the next week.

As it turned out, that was the highlight of the ten days! Monday was an ok day but too many people everywhere. You forget that your memories of special places are usually locked into a particular time of the year. While Florida can seem dreamy in December, it is painful in August, and so it is for us in Nice.  We prefer the cold season when the Promenade is for the locals and the restaurants have time to chat with you and serve food that isn’t meant to be consumed with your fingers.  Tuesday rained all day, which was fine for us since we had the Promenade all to ourselves and even rain soaked we received our typically sunny reception at our favorite bar where we had our coffee and daily chat with the owners who tolerate my French and love Cindy’s questions about grammar and verb tense.  

The last really fun thing we did was Tuesday night, which involved a lovely dinner at a favorite restaurant. The next morning I woke up at five feeling a bit funny.  I went into the bathroom and within five minutes had managed to expel everything I had consumed for the past month from every part of my body that allowed expulsion. This pattern continued for the next four days, with periodic timeouts for chicken buillion, sips of water and very long periods of sleep. Not sure what caused it, could have been a bad oyster, could have been a stomach flu, could have been damn near anything but it struck with a vengeance.  Luckily Cindy was spared the brunt of the illness, she was out of service for only about a day and never had an issue with violent expulsions.  I highly recommend this illness for those that are trying to really loose weight quickly!

We departed a few days later, sad that our experience had been so terrible. To make sure we don’t feel bad about Nice, I’ve just booked us for three weeks, Christmas to the middle of January. I’m sure we’ll find ‘our’ Nice then.

Best to all,  Cindy and William

Last night, Sunday, was the first time in five days that I really thought I could eat a whole meal. We booked at a favorite place looking forward to a fine meal. We were seated inside, at our request, everyone else was waiting for a table outside so that they could breath smoke as they ate. We started with Champagne, ordered a lovely bottle of Petite Chablis, Cindy’s favorite and hard to find, and ordered our appetizer.  Half way through my burrata and tomatoes,  realized that I was full, no hunger at all. Cindy finished here calamari sauté and helped with my caprese but she too was not hungry so we finished our wine and asked for the bill. The young waitress then tried to tell us that it is expected that guests will order a main course!  This of course is a load of manure and we told her that we were not feeling well and please bring the check. She they tried to get us to order dessert!  Now here we were in a French restaurant were the prefixe meal was 30Euros. If we had both ordered the prefixe the bill would have been 60 euros, our bill was 80 Euros, almost all of which was wine which is where the restaurant makes money! Do they not train anyone anymore?  Again, this would never have happened in the winter, but they are so used to dealing with mass tourism that they think they can shame you into eating more than you wish!

We are home!  We flew with a carrier called La Compagnie, they have non-stop service from Newark to Nice in the warmer months. They fly a specially configured 757, with 74 business class seats. It was a comfortable layout and very affordable for a discounted Business Class. I really didn’t think everything through when I made the reservations because it was special offer made on Valentine’s Day, two for $2500 round trip. I jumped on it before any analysis, which was a tad silly.  It is not hard to get from here to Newark, but the flight departed at 23:30 and the only flight I could get to Newark arrived at 13:30.  That is a very, very long time to be in Newark.  We had to spend the night on the return since the flight arrived at 22:00 and there were no connections. Again, not a horrible thing, but not what you want to do after a long flight late at night. 

Between Kisses

I pull the car up the departure door, pop the trunk, pull out Cindy’s suitcase and give her a long kiss goodbye. In seconds she is swallowed by the cavernous airport and I’m back in the car heading home, missing her already.

It hasn’t always been like that.  For years in the 90’s we lived apart more than we lived together, and before that I was often gone for long periods of time, but we managed.  In the 80’s when I was traveling in Asia, there was no internet or email and phone calls were simply too expensive and hard to arrange given the time zone difference.  We relied on faxes!  Do you remember faxes? I can remember sleeping in some hotel or another in Tokyo or Hong Kong when I would hear a slight sigh of an envelope being slipped under my door.  I would leap out of bed and read the fax from Cindy; in fact I would read it several times before going back to sleep. It was a tough way to stay in touch.

Now we have multiple ways to say in touch, in fact if we wanted we could be in touch all of the time.  The technology however does not solve the problem. We adjusted in the early days because we had to adjust. Cindy had her job, I had mine and we simply dealt with it as best we could.  Now, however, we are both retired and spend most waking hours together. Mostly doing mundane things, but we are together and can communicate without a word or with lots of words, but we are in constant communication. 

When she leaves now I do not find calls, messages, email, or even FaceTime to be a very satisfying way to communicate. It is stilted, usually short, sometimes just an emoji or single letter, K for okay.  And so, paradoxically, I miss her more now when we have tons of tech to work with than I did in the early years. And so I wait with great anticipation for the welcome home kiss, to end the loneliness.

Nice in September

We have stayed in Nice many times but always in the cold months. We thought we would try it in the warmer months to see what it was like so we came for ten days in early September.  BIG MISTAKE!!

This is not our Nice, it is the Nice of sun lovers, party animals, families, Russians, Scandinavians, and others in search of the last rays of sunlight to tan their hides.  It is horrible and to be avoided.  We arrived on a Friday and our Uber driver told us that starting the next day there was an Ironman competition with 57,000 participants. Saturday was for the women and Sunday for the men, which meant that our precious Promenade was to be closed for two days.  The horror!

We settled into our AirBnB which was roomy but basic and lacking most things needed for a ten day stay. It set the tone for the next ten days, which were to be less than perfect. On Saturday morning we tried to go to the Promenade (thinking maybe we could get onto it despite the Ironman), but were rebuffed by marshals protecting the rights of the runners and bikers. We walked instead on the main streets of Nice, which were clogged with support people and tourists. The next day we decided to not even try the Promenade and instead walked up to the top of a park that is two miles above sea level, or so it seemed as we walked and walked and walked on switchback paths.  We finally got to the top and there were no views of anything, just trees, a thousand dogs off-leash, and sincere hikers with scrawny arms and legs like a Michelangelo detailed anatomy sketch. Our legs were aching and we couldn’t for the life of us figure out whose idea it was to do this insanity!

We finally got home, fueled by an exceptional cup of real Italian espresso, and then cleaned up for our Sunday lunch.  I’m a sucker for Sunday lunches.  I remember living in Italy and after the church services, extended family groups would go to a trattoria and spend three to four hours eating, drinking, laughing and generally having a ball.  We found a perfect place near Place Liberation that we had noticed in years past and made a reservation.  We had to wait for thirty minutes but there was a bar and I enjoyed a pastis while observing the dynamic of the restaurant.  It was a mixed bag from singles to extended families all served by experienced waiters who moved with the precision of ballet dancers, twisting and turning with a fluidity that sometimes seemed to defy gravity. From my perch at the bar, I could also observe the two barmen filling orders with the speed and alacrity of a well-tuned pit crew.  It was a most acceptable way of spending thirty minutes. 

Our luncheon was spectacular!  A shared dozen fresh oysters, the freshest tuna you can imagine done to perfection (for me), and an avocado and shrimp salad for Cindy which she declared to be divine. Rosé for me, Chablis for Cindy - and groans of contentment filled our corner of the room.  We wandered home in a haze of satisfaction and took a well-deserved nap for an hour or so, establishing a routine for the next week.

As it turned out, that was the highlight of the ten days! Monday was an okay day but too many people everywhere. You forget that your memories of special places are usually locked into a particular time of the year. While Florida can seem dreamy in December, it is painful in August, and so it is for us in Nice.  We prefer the cold season when the Promenade is for the locals and the restaurant people have time to chat with you and serve food that isn’t meant to be consumed with your fingers.  Tuesday it rained all day, which was fine for us since we had the Promenade all to ourselves and even rain-soaked we received our typically sunny reception at our favorite bar where we had our coffee and daily chat with the owners who tolerate my French and love Cindy’s questions about vocabulary.  

The last really fun thing we did was Tuesday night, which involved a lovely dinner at a favorite restaurant. The next morning I woke up at five feeling a bit funny.  I went into the bathroom and within five minutes had managed to expel everything I had consumed for the past month from every part of my body that allowed expulsion. This pattern continued for the next three days, with periodic timeouts for chicken bouillon, sips of water, and very long periods of sleep. Not sure what caused it - could have been a bad oyster, could have been a stomach flu, could have been damn near anything - but it struck with a vengeance.  Luckily Cindy was spared the brunt of the illness; she was out of service for only about a day and never had an issue with violent expulsions.  I highly recommend this illness for those that are trying to lose weight really quickly!

We departed a few days later, sad that our experience had been less than perfect (as we have come to expect in Nice). To make sure we don’t feel bad about Nice, I’ve just booked us for three weeks, Christmas to the middle of January. I’m sure we’ll find ‘our’ Nice then.

Best to all,  Cindy and William

The Pleasures of Small Town Living

We’ve lived in Charles Town now for a dozen years and we are always amazed at how easy it is to do things. It is not just the compact nature of the geography when nothing is more than a few miles away; it is more about the interactions with the people that set this place apart from anywhere else we have lived.  Ellensburg Washington comes close, but here it is so unexpected. Everyone we encounter is unfailingly polite and if they’re meant to be doing something for us (as opposed to just crossing paths in the aisle or whatever) they are extremely competent.  

The other day in preparation for our trip to Florida last Saturday, I went into the bank to get a few hundred dollars. The place was empty so I just walked up to the first teller and said I needed to withdraw money from my account.  I asked for the form to fill out and the teller just said, “Oh, that isn’t necessary, we know who you are, Mr. Byxbee.”  He counted out the money, had me sign for it and I was off. No forms, no ID, no checking balances, just in and out.  And I had not recognized HIM; it’s not like he was my usual teller!

I needed to get a new tank of propane so I drove for three minutes to the 7Eleven and went in to pay for it. The young female clerk - who should have used the money she spent on tattoos for some major dental work - yelled to the boss that she was going out for a propane exchange. It was 95 degrees outside and as we went to the cage she said it was so hot the soles of her shoes were melting. This ninety-pound wonder then opened the cage, grabbed a new tank from the top, and with one hand pulled it down, did a pirouette, and perfectly and softly placed it at my feet. I was amazed at the strength and grace this young woman exhibited in doing something so mundane.

I had mistakenly grabbed a low-fat yogurt instead of a non-fat yogurt the other day while shopping. The next day I returned it to the customer service area where the ‘associate’ asked me for my receipt. Before I could say that I didn’t have one, the manager came out, said hello to me and said to the young man, “Mr. Byxbee doesn’t need a receipt to return something.” Just as easy as that. 

Lastly, we have been going to the same dry cleaner since we moved here 12 years ago. There I am known as Mr. Emmans since Cindy was here for six months before me and I saw no reason to confuse them.  I went in yesterday and the clerk, who is always watching 1960s reruns of black and white westerns, said, “Mr. Emmans, I just can’t get used to you driving anything but that maroon Explorer. I would have had your clothes right here but you just kinda surprised me again with that new red car.  I’m goin’ to have to remember that car!” We’ve had the red car for one year!

Like I said, the pleasures of small town living.   Best to all, Cindy and Wm

Kansas City

It was a pleasure to be driving in excellent weather with excellent visibility as we left Tulsa, but unfortunately there was nothing to see, or rather a lot of nothing to see.  The road was mostly rural, straight and empty. There was a farmhouse here, a John Deere store there, some silos, flooded fields devoid of any evidence of crops growing, and that was pretty much it. Occasionally we would have to slow down for either an intersection or a small town - sometimes they were the same thing - but then the speed limit would go back up and we were in more of “sameville.”  And then with no notice whatsoever we entered Kansas; we could tell because the two-lane road turned into a one-lane and the road marker had a sunflower on it. Since that is the state flower of Kansas, we guessed we had made it.  We were later told that this particular section of southeast Kansas doesn’t have much of a population, therefore not much representation in the government and therefore doesn’t receive much money for anything, especially for a “Welcome to Kansas” sign.

The real purpose of our trip to Kansas City, in addition to Cindy needing the check off the state, was to visit our dear friends Julia and Ted and to christen their new guest quarters, which were lovely, private and cool. We arrived in time for cocktails and dinner and got all caught up on our various activities and were given our ‘touring’ schedule for the next two days.  I immediately excused myself to go to bed since I was exhausted just hearing about all that was ahead of us. Actually, it was a very relaxed schedule with nothing planned before eleven in the morning and long lunch breaks!  But it doesn’t take much for me to start having cold uncontrollable sweats if there is a museum or gallery mentioned. 

The next day we headed to one of the most magnificent museums I’ve ever visited. It is the National World War I Museum and Memorial.  I had only heard of it because Ted has been a guide there for eight years and kept telling us we had to come and visit so he could give us a private tour.  Everything about this place was overwhelming, from the impeccable grounds to the fantastic displays and videos - and of course, having a personal guide. This link to the museum itself will give you a chance to see more of this marvel and if you have the time, watch some of the excellent videos. (Actually if you have the time, visit the museum!)  We spent several hours there, only touching the surface, which is why your ticket is good for two full days. 

We adjourned to lunch at, what else, a KC BBQ joint!  We normally don’t do BBQ, but we knew we wanted to try the real deal and it was a blast. I ordered the daily special with a local brew to wash it down. I thought I had ordered modestly but seriously, it came looking like something out of Fred Flintstone. The plate arrived with four rather large pork ribs and a bowl of baked beans which was really one-third beans, one-third pulled pork and one-third BBQ sauce. There was a single slice of white toast and a small mound of sliced dill pickles. I sure loved the entire thing, just as I’m sure I’ll never do it again! (at least for a year).

Our next museum was a surprise, The Arabia Steamboat Museum.  Ted had been pretty cagey about what this was and we didn’t look anything up since we wanted to be surprised, and surprised we were. This steamboat had sunk one hundred and fifty years ago in 1856 and luckily enough there was no loss of human life, just one mule that didn’t make it. The ship was filled with the kind of cargo you would expect for folks heading west to make a new life. I encourage you to read and look at all the pictures in the link above and I think you’ll be as amazed as we were.

Our last museum of the trip was really quite unexpected. It is in the small river town of Weston Missouri, which is a really cool place all by itself.  It is the National Silk Art Museum, run by one person who is so dedicated to this that he has made it his life’s work to enhance and expand all the holdings.  Again, it is one of those places that you have to experience for yourself, but the link above does a rather good job of re-creating the experience we had there.  Best to all, Cindy and Wm

Weather

We used to joke that being a television meteorologist in San Diego was the easiest job in the world with the same report every day:  Mild, sunny, overnight lows in the 60s and highs in the low 80s with a nice offshore breeze.  Every day.  The opposite would appear to be true in Oklahoma and nearby states: These meteorologists WORK it - maps and pressure systems and predicted rainfall and rain already fallen and floods having happened and floods about to happen.  The hotel bar television in OKC was usually tuned to a news station and the only news was the weather all evening long. “This just in” and they would cut to their storm chasing car whose windshield was splattered with heavy rain and they would suggest that a tornado was on the way.  Five minutes later, “This just in” and we were treated to what appeared to be the same car, rain obscuring any view, and the suggestion to take cover. Their maps and feeds and videos from storm chasers and all the rest were outstanding, but for us to be told that Pullman County was under an alert did nothing since we didn’t even know what county we were in. It appears that the spring storm season keeps those meteorologists on their toes literally and figuratively.  Quite amazing, and we’re glad we don’t live in that area! Having said that, we didn’t see any damage like we experienced last May at our house when we had that big hail storm and incurred thirty-thousand dollars of damage!  Go figure. 

Here is a cute little flyer that was posted on all the elevators and in all the rooms at our hotel in Tulsa.

Tulsa

Our luck with good weather snapped the minute - and I mean the minute - we got into our rental car. The heavens opened up and stayed open for six hours, heavy wind-driven nasty rain.  We had all the directions we needed to get from OKC to Tulsa but we were thwarted by lack of signage and horrible visibility. The highway entrance had NO signs due to construction so we missed it; recovered pretty well on an alternate route that led to a toll road. Now here is a fun fact:  Some Oklahoma Turnpikes only take COINS - no bills, no credit cards, exact change only. I had not a single coin and Cindy had 30¢ not 70¢ as required, so we called the 800 number listed on the coin basket and got instructions for calling and paying later.  Who carries coins and why didn’t the rental car place tell us since they knew we were going to Tulsa and there is only one way to to get there?  Cindy, bless her heart, spent far too long on the phone dealing with this 70-cent issue after we got to Tulsa. It must have cost them ten dollars to charge our credit card for 70 cents!

But I digress. We continued to drive in a major rainstorm and all the while the radio was blasting flood warnings and tornado alerts. At one point we saw that funny color of green right next to a black cloud that had lightning zapping out of it. Goodness, it was a fright for sure. Once in Tulsa our GPS took us to a side entrance of the hotel so I sprinted to it only to find out that it was locked so I had to run around the building in the rain to figure out where to park. There was no self parking, only valet, and given the storm I did not argue since I was soaking wet and not wanting to get any wetter. We moved the car, ran into the lobby, gave the valet the keys and registered. We were quite hungry and my white knuckles needed something to relax them. The kitchen in the restaurant closed at 2:00 and it was 1:55 so Cindy dashed over to try and order some food. The wait person looked at us and looked at the clock and said, “if it’s two o’clock the kitchen is closed but it looks like you have 2 minutes.”  And they’re not even German!  So we quickly scanned the menu and ordered and then ran up to the room to leave our suitcases.  We had a very nice lunch and in the end they were very accommodating and pleasant.  All during lunch it rained buckets and we were so glad to be inside - for the rest of the day/ night.  The dinner menu looked quite inviting and even if the weather had been better we would have elected to stay in.

After a well-deserved nap, we took advantage of a lull in the rain to walk for an hour to get the lay of the land. We had thought we were going to be able to visit a few museums but it was not to be, much to my great sadness!!  We went back to the hotel and changed for dinner and went to the top of the hotel for cocktails. For fifteen shining minutes the sun came out and we were able to see most of Tulsa from the rooftop terrace. The river was swollen and running fast and all of the low lying areas of the city had been blocked off to traffic with much of it evacuated. Dinner was a strange affair:  The menu looked fantastic but the reality was somewhat less than appealing, or for that matter edible.  We actually met the chef who seemed very proud of his work but apparently he was reaching beyond his ability - e.g., duck confit is meant to be a leg conserved in its own fat.  He got those elements right, but he had over-brined it and it was so salty as to be inedible. 

The next morning was bright and sunny and Cindy went to the hotel’s torture chamber to work out while I walked the city. Our hotel, The Mayo, was quite similar to the one in OKC, the oldest in Tulsa and restored to incorporate some modern amenities while keeping the old charm. There were cool little rooms on the Mezzanine: a writing room, a card room. a sewing room and a few little corners with views. The surrounding area was again void of stores, pharmacies, bodegas and even tourist shops. We decided to skip another museum since it didn’t open until 11 am and we had a four+plus hour drive ahead of us. 

I suppose since they don’t get a lot of tourists in Tulsa, they don’t want them to leave because once again it took us forever to get out of town. The valet told us how to get to the highway we wanted but the entrance was blocked due to high water. The same for the alternative route. Finally Cindy found a “longcut” (too late for a shortcut!) which was really the only way out, and we settled in for the ride. Well, we settled in for about four minutes before we heard this ding-ding-ding indicating a low tire pressure and a warning to fill immediately.  We pulled off at the first gas station and found the tire pump. Since the message did not say which tire, I had to check them all, and sure enough one was at twenty pounds of pressure.  I filled it up and we were once again on the road to Kansas.  Kansas was Cindy’s 49th state and now she only has Alabama left.  

Best to all, Cindy and Wm

Oklahoma City

We really didn’t have any expectations or knowledge about Oklahoma. For me it was my 50th state, for Cindy her 48th.  We knew there had been a land rush and we knew - or thought we knew - about the bombing of the federal building in 1995.  We also knew they had miserable weather in May with hail, tornadoes, tons of rain and resultant flooding, but that was it.  Our young and dumb Uber driver who picked us up at the OK City airport added nothing to our knowledge base as we drove to the hotel.  In fact, we had to tell him a few things about history, trains, and westward expansion - and he didn’t seem to give a damn about any of it. Oh well, not his job, so we tipped him for the ride (Daisy being the first driver ever that we did not tip).

I had chosen a hotel based on two factors:  It had to be within walking distance of most everything we wanted to see, and it had to be of historical and architectural interest. We ended up at the Skirvin Hotel, which proved to be a fantastic choice. It is the oldest hotel in OKC and the staff was just perfect, as was our suite. As we were checking in they asked a question, which we would get a lot, “Why are you here?”  We would reply that we had never been to OK before and they would repeat, “But why are you here?”  We suspect that there aren’t a lot of tourists that go out of their way to visit Oklahoma City.  The positive side of that is that they are VERY proud of their city and were eager to ensure that we have a good time.

Our first morning was filled with strong winds and empty streets. It seems that the downtown is just for business and on this Memorial Day, there weren’t any cars, people or commerce. Fortunately, the Oklahoma City National Memorial & Museum was open and that was the first thing we wanted to visit. It is truly moving and we spent three hours walking the grounds, visiting the interactive museum and just marveling at how OKC pulled itself together after such a tragedy.  (For those interested in a five minute video summary of events click here.)  This was the first of SIX museums we would visit in our six-day trip; that is how much I love Cindy!

We had some fun experiences at the bar of the hotel. It turned out that the World Series of College Women’s Softball was to be played starting the day we were to depart. ESPN was covering this event and many members of the broadcast crew were already in town setting things up, so we got to talking to the ones who frequented the bar.  These were interesting and funny guys and they enjoyed talking to us since we knew nothing about sports and they had fresh faces to amaze with their stories. We met them twice at cocktails before we headed out for dinner and each time they were still at the bar two hours later when we returned, still laughing and talking and drinking. We would sit with them for a bit and then retire while they seemed to be getting their second wind; amazing that they do that night after night!

One of the coolest things we did was accidentally discover the Oklahoma City Land Run Monument.  We were just walking the length of the small canal that runs through a neighborhood called Bricktown and we came across these remarkable statues. On the way home we walked around Mickey Mantle Drive and looked at statues of lots of famous folk from OKC.  We visited a Rain Forest in the Myriad Botanical Gardens which was really amazing. We had walked in the gardens during our morning exercise but going into the Crystal Forest was educational and fun. The OKC Museum of Art had a fantastic exhibit of Dale Chihuly art glass; we thought we knew a lot about his work but we were wrong.  He certainly has been prolific.

Can’t say very much about the food in OKC. I suppose if you love steaks and other meats, you would be happy since it seems every restaurant is a steakhouse. We did have a marvelous lunch at a little place downtown called Kitchen 324, which featured farm-to-table food. Nothing else stands out - except for the price of wine, which was quite expensive due to the tax structure.

Stay tuned for Tulsa!  Cindy and Wm

Cindy's Birthday Trip: Part One

You have to leave home but you don’t have to go far to have fodder for a travel blog.  Every year Cindy picks a place she wants to visit for her birthday week. Usually it is a city in the USA that she doesn’t know and wants to get to know. We have gone to Memphis, Buffalo, and Pittsburgh, and every time it has been a gas.  This year she wanted to go to Oklahoma and Kansas City, so I planned the trip to include Oklahoma City, Tulsa and KC.

We got off to a rather difficult start, which involved a trip to Dulles using Lyft. I know we are in a rather remote spot for share riding services - in fact Uber doesn’t even cover our area - so we have not been surprised when Lyft drivers show up in rather old cars, or packing a gun which had to be hidden when we entered Virginia since he didn’t have a permit for Virginia.  Usually we have to wait for the driver to show up before we get to see what surprise is in store for our ride, but not this time:  The surprise preceded the arrival.  As I followed the Lyft GPS app I noticed that our driver, Daisy, had taken two wrong turns. I tried to call and text her but she did not respond so I ran up the the end of the street and flagged her down when she was close enough. I thought that her being 20 minutes late would be the big surprise but I was in for a treat.

First of all, she never got out of the car to offer to help us with our luggage - she looked to be in her 50s and was wiry and very thin (too thin) and was wearing yoga pants and might have been strong - but we’ll never know.  When I opened her trunk it was FILLED with fishing equipment and a huge first aid kit.  She had to be asked to move it - which she did while muttering under her breath about her life-saving efforts with the first aid supplies - but she made no attempt to help with the luggage.  I had to manhandle all our luggage to get the two larger bags in the trunk and the two little carryons in the front seat, since there was no room for them in the back due to the two bags of garbage and Daisy’s purse. This was a 2007 Nissan-something that did not have a functioning AC and it was a hot day. At several points in the trip she was unsure as to where she was going and despite our attempts to guide her she made mistakes, like getting off on the wrong arm of a roundabout instead of getting onto the highway. We both thought she was going to drive into the woods and shoot or otherwise maim us.  We finally made it to the airport and we leaped out of the car, reminded her to open the trunk (she would have driven away with it!), grabbed the luggage and dashed into the terminal.  We needed to distance ourselves from Daisy and to finally get some cool air.  We were both thinking, if this is just the start of the trip, what else do we have to look forward to?

After all the machinations involved with getting through security, we repaired to a lounge for a glass of wine while we waited for our flight to be called.  We had booked a non-stop flight from Dulles to Oklahoma City, thus avoiding the problems that can develop with transfers in another hub. Our plane was a small one but quite comfortable - and they even served a meal, which is almost unheard of in the world of United Airlines.  We lucked out with the weather and there were no tornadoes in our flight path, just some manageable turbulence, and we were soon in the Sooner State ready for out next adventure. 

To be continued:  Cindy and Wm

D-Day Run Up

I’ve been following the run-up to the 75th Anniversary of D-Day with great interest.  For many of those who were there, this will be the last big anniversary they will participate in, or so the NYT tells us. While my dad had nothing to do with D-Day - he was in the Pacific - I still think about what it must have been like for him and all those who fought in WWII. 

My father and grandfather joined the armed forces on the same day in February 1942.  My dad was just 17 but since his father was also signing up, he signed a waiver to allow my dad to join since he would be 18 in a few months. My grandfather had been in WWI and his stint in WWII was reserved for stateside supply duty for the Army. My dad signed up for the Navy and the two of them went off for their respective service, not to see each other for another several years. 

I can remember my dad - his face and expressions animated and his eyes drifting off to remember all the details - telling us of his first week in boot camp. It was the first time in his life that he had brand new clothes. He couldn’t believe that they gave him two pairs of new shoes and two pairs of new socks, not to mention all the new skivvies, pants, shirts and caps.  I can still hear him telling me, “Bud, they fed us three times a day - and hot meals at that.”  He, like most of his fellow recruits, were children of the depression and hot meals and clean clothes and warm bedding were luxuries they had never experienced. If you look at pictures of WWII troops you’ll notice that every single enlisted person was wafer thin, so having access to real food - including fresh vegetables and fruit, meat and eggs - was something new and exciting to these folks.

Cindy and I were touring the D-Day beaches and towns in October of 2013. If you remember the government was shut down for sixteen days and while we were aware of this fact, it never occurred to us that it would also have an effect on the D-Day area.  We drove our car to the American Cemetery and the gate was locked. We got out and read a small sign that said that due to the government shutdown the cemetery was not open to visitors until further notice. We watched in great sadness as several buses loaded with veterans hoping to visit their fallen friends or family members were turned away, knowing that for many this was their last opportunity to pay their respects.  

I hope that this year’s celebrations will not be marred by any political grandstanding and that those who are able to get back to the Normandy beaches and villages will be given the recognition and respect that they richly reserve.

Here is an article from the NYT that sparked this blog.

Best wishes,  Cindy and William

You don't know what you've got til it's gone!

When we arrived back to Dulles from Paris on Valentine’s Day, I was denied access to Global Entry. For those who don’t know what that is, I’ll tell you it is pure gold. It allows you to bypass the long lines at USA immigration and simply place your passport in a slot, put your hand on the glass - and bingo, you get a slip of paper to hand to the waiting agent and you are out of there. It also comes with TSA Pre which allows you to go to special lines where you don’t have to take off shoes or belts, you can leave your liquids in your bag, and your don’t have to take computers out of the suitcase. It is magic.

It appears my membership lapsed on my birthday while I was out of the country so I never thought about it until I was denied access. Fortunately there was a very kind immigration officer who brought me to a desk, asked a few questions and let me through without having to go back into the general population!  She said to make sure I renewed soon, and I applied the very next day but I am still waiting since it can take up to two months!  In the meantime, I’m without status and have to go though the normal channels at airports.

I had occasion last week to take a quick trip to Florida to see the girls and their families. The trip down was fine but coming home reminded me of how much I took TSA Pre for granted and how much I missed it. I had to arrive at the Tampa Airport security lines two hours before the flight because the night before there had been lots of cancellations due to weather in the mid-west and the airport was jammed.  The TSA Pre line was almost empty but I couldn’t talk my way into it, so I got in line with everyone else and just waited and waited. 

Since the airlines have started charging for checked bags, everyone tries to bring steamer trunks - or at least suitcases that look as large as steamer trunks - onto the plane. It also appeared that everyone in the line had at least three kids, all of whom were rather miffed at having to be somewhere at 06:45!  (I shared their concern.)  As we slowly moved toward the conveyor belt I had the chance to watch the tragic opera that was unfolding in front of my eyes. There were TSA agents reciting their mantra, “take out your fluids, computers, iPads and phones and place them in the baskets. Take off your shoes and jackets and belts and place them in the baskets; everything else must be placed on the conveyor belt. No keys or other metal in your pockets.  Now what do you suppose the most asked questions were to these polite agents?  Yep, “Do I need to take off my shoes?”  “Can I keep my computer in the bag?” “Can I keep my phone in my pocket?”,  and so on ad nauseam.

Finally through security, with an hour to spare, I made my way to a quiet place I know where there are small tables and electrical outlets and no people. On the way, I passed a rather long line for Chick’ Filet which wasn’t scheduled to open for another fifteen minutes; these folks must love their chicken. The line for Starbucks was twenty deep as was the line for Pei Wei, a fast food Asian fusion joint. I did a bit of writing and then purchased a bottle of water since the good folks at United don’t come around often with refreshments in coach. I still have my status with UA and was able to board the plane early enough to secure a space in the overhead for my suitcase and jacket. I settled into my aisle seat, which didn’t recline since it was in front of the exit row, and played the, ‘who is going to sit next to me?’ game with myself. It was a no-brainer however because the minute I saw this huge lady with a baby and two big bags start waddling down the aisle,I was sure it was her - so sure that I stood up as she got close - and of course I had picked correctly!  I kept praying for the door to close and get the flight underway (and over with), but that was not to be. Since the flight was full and everyone had lots of luggage there was no more room in the overhead bins, yet the flight attendants had allowed about twelve people on with luggage despite the fact that they knew the bins were full.  That meant that these good folks had to make their way back up to the jetway, tag the bags and get back to their seats while the ground crew took the bags to the cargo hold. Another fifteen minute delay!

Now I won’t bore you with details of the flight, except to say that it was a very long two hours in the air, and right in the middle of the flight I started to smell something rather nasty and looked up from my iPad to see my seat mate changing her baby on top of the tray table in front of her.  I said I would be happy to get up so she could go to the bathroom that has a changing table, but she didn’t want to get up while the plane was moving!!!  I dug out a ziplock that I always carry and gave it to her for the diaper but she didn’t seem to know how to seal it so I did that for her and placed it near her bag on the floor. Even if they had served food, I couldn’t have eaten!  The minute I got off that plane I took really deep breaths and did all I could to get out of the terminal and into fresh air as soon as possible.  Ah, the joys of flying!!

Best wishes, Cindy and Wm

Home Sweet Home

We have been home for a tad more that two weeks and into familiar patterns that we enjoy. By going to Europe for three months I had hoped to avoid snow and cold, but we returned two weeks early and the weather gods found out and dumped six inches of the white stuff on us about a week ago. It finally disappeared on Saturday when we got another dose of cold and white. Luckily, we anticipated all of it and had plenty of food, wine and water - as well as a high performance gas fireplace - so we were cozy and happy.  I still get a warm feeling sitting by the window with my hot tea watching Cindy shovel the snow off the driveway and walkways; it never gets old!

We attended a Mardi Gras gala last Friday night in support of the Friends of Music, the foundation that promotes musical excellence in the Eastern Panhandle (that’s us).  It was held at the Bavarian Inn and since we originally had planned to arrive back in WV the night before the event, we booked a room knowing that we would be really tired.  Glad we kept the reservation since it started to rain/snow shortly after the event started and we just had to toddle to our room and sleep out the storm. The Inn is a series of four freestanding buildings made to look  like Alpine Chalets, half timbered buildings, complete with the painted walls. They have a rather authentic Rathskeller with Spaten beer on tap and great Bavarian food.  (After dancing for two hours I must say that a half liter of Spaten went down with ease.)

We pulled together costumes from things around the house - see photo below - and ended up doing a fine job of ‘masking’ our identities.  I would guess there were about sixty people that attended and everything was handled very professionally. The food was really quite good for a group that large and the music was sensational. It was a six piece Dixieland Band and they actually marched into the room playing, which got everything off to a great start. Of course Cindy and I danced almost every number and had a marvelous time tripping the light fantastic. 

Cindy has gotten back into her music and attended her first orchestra rehearsal since September. I managed to get our taxes done and catch up on lots of emails that somehow never showed up on my account while overseas, not at all sure why, but no harm was done. Little things also needed tending, which is to be expected when you are gone for two months. One thing not expected was a flat tire on Cindy’s little yellow Aveo. I got a hand pump and filled it with enough air to drive to the tire store, which was closed for good, but there was a place nearby that was able to get it repaired quickly. The culprit was a half inch metal screw from the installation of the new gutters and downspouts last November. The tire guy said that they must get three or four of those a day and they always secretly thank the sloppy contractors that don’t clean up after themselves.

In order to complete our immersion back into USA culture, we took a trip to Costco. We were going to spend the forty bucks they gave me as a rebate and we were also going to buy one of their great roasted chickens. I forgot how big a big box store can be and after all of our shopping at mom and pop places in Europe, it was a shocker.  However, you can’t argue with their prices. We needed to replace one of our ‘cruise’ suitcases, a 25-inch that can hold suits and dresses. We had priced some of these in Nice, where they were having annual sales with more that 50% off, and yet they couldn’t come even close to Costco prices. So after purchasing the suitcase, storage containers, wine, cheeses, water, and odds and ends, our chicken ended up costing more than $380 and we forgot to use the rebate certificate. C’est la vie!

Best wishes, Cindy and Wm 

King and Queen of the Ball

An Unexpected Adventure, Part II

Our tickets also gave us admission to the Conciergerie and I figured, in for a penny, in for a pound, so we wandered over and took the tour. While very impressive, it should be done before Sainte-Chapelle. Louis IX knew what he liked and he did a fine job on both of these structures, but I was already in sensory overload and merely was going through the motions.  Besides, it is now best known as a prison for Marie Antoinette and I certainly don’t like prisons, especially those with no windows.  

Soon enough we were out in the sunshine again, happy as clams which reminded me that it was time for lunch.  I wanted to eat at the Terminus Nord, a restaurant that has been guarding the entrance to the Gare du Nord since 1925.  Getting there was not half the fun because we got lost in the Châtelet metro station. This is an enormous transit point for the Métro - five major subway lines and 5 regional (RER) trains run through it - so finding your way around can be very difficult. We finally found the right track only to hear that service was suspended for two hours and we then wove our way around hungry folks heading to food courts until we discovered we were in an entirely new station, Les Halles, having walked nearly forty minutes and gone though six turnstiles without ever getting on a train! I felt like Charlie, The Man Who Never Returned  and I wanted to go up to the surface since I was tired of feeling like a mole. However, Cindy prevailed, found the right track and we were soon at the Gare du Nord.   We were so happy that the agent at the airport had sold us day passes since we ended up putting our tickets through the automated doors 5 times without going anywhere!  We felt like such rubes but frankly Châtelet is just plain too big and we didn’t know how many rail lines we were facing.  

The restaurant Terminus Nord is a glorious fusion of Art Nouveau and Art Deco, bright with crystal lights and polished copper and filled with fresh flowers, crisp linens and shimmering silver. We had to wait a bit, having arrived at one-thirty without reservations, but it was well worth it and gave me a chance to look at the customers, a pleasant mix of travelers in a hurry and regulars who enjoy three-hour lunches.  We were seated at a fairly large table, unheard of in France, and soon had our ice cold Kirs and red hot menus.  They have a daily set menu which offers a choice of starter, main and/or dessert. Cindy started with a dish of mushrooms and herbs topped with a poached egg and I had a small Cesar salad, which in France has thick slices of chicken breast. I continued with the boucher cut, a small steak with french fries and a sinful Béarnaise sauce while Cindy opted for a healthy grilled chicken.  The waiter who brought me my food had a large sauce bowl filled with the Béarnaise and as I started to ladle it onto my plate he politely took it from my hands, this was his job!  Carafes of Rosé and Côtes du Rhône added a touch of elegance and relaxation to this fantastic meal, and don’t get me started on the fabulous bread. 

A few hours later, we reluctantly departed and forty minutes later we were at the entrance to the hotel, a magnificent day trip to Paris and a most pleasant unexpected adventure.  I went to the Club to get a glass of wine for us to share before our nap and the same gentleman from the night before was there. I told him what I wanted and he returned from his small kitchen with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket and two glasses, all on a lovely tray for me to bring back to the room.  How gracious!

The next morning we did our final packing, retrieved our two bags from the porter and proceeded to find our way to the shuttle train which took us to Terminal One for our United flight. While we were in Brussels I had gone into a Leonidas chocolate shop to purchase a large red silk heart-shaped box of chocolates to give to the United crew since we were traveling on St. Valentine’s Day. Since Cindy was in another shop, I also purchased a little red velvet heart-shaped box with one chocolate in it as well as a small bag of four crème fraîche confections, Cindy’s favorite.  I was trying to tell the clerk that I wanted those two items in a separate bag before Cindy arrived, but I saw her entering the shop and stuffed them into my coat pocket. The clerk looked terrified until she realized Cindy was my wife and this was to be the surprise I had tried to tell her about. She smiled!

Once settled on the plane, we gave the box of chocolates to the purser with the note that Cindy had written the night before. She was amazed and grateful and we received rather excellent service from everyone who appreciated the gesture.  Shortly after lunch, I went to the galley with my little box and four candies and asked for a tray and a glass since I had also brought a small flask of cognac. (United does not carry any brandy anymore in Business Class!)  They said they would take care of everything and I went back to my seat. A few moments later she came out with the tray and presented it to Cindy, who was truly surprised. Four of the other flight attendants were standing there because they wanted to see Cindy’s reaction.  It turned out to be a fun flight and a great way to end our unexpected adventure, not to mention a nice ending to our two-month sojourn in Europe. 

Best to all, Cindy and Wm

Cindy's Valentine' Day Surprise