Showing posts with label Home for the Holidays 2007. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Home for the Holidays 2007. Show all posts
Monday, January 14, 2008
January 8, 2008 - Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean
We didn't really have an 8th of January this year. When we took off from CLE and LAX, it was still January 7th. When we land in Auckland in the morning it will be the 9th. This lost day seems like a good time to express our sadness about leaving our friends and family again. One of the biggest surprises about this cruising lifestyle has been how much closer we've grown to the people in our lives, in spite of the vast distances between us. Throughout this year we have had so much more time for personal correspondence and phone calls than we did while we were working. These past 6 weeks we've spent more time with many of our friends and family than we ever did in a year of working. Unfortunately, over the past 50 days, each time we said "hello", "goodbye" was just hours or, at most, days away. It has really been wonderful to have had the opportunity to visit with so many people who are so important to us. But the intensity of the time spent with our loved ones has made leaving again really hard. So when we said "come visit" we weren't being polite, or facetious. We really do want to see you all in your flip flops, bikinis and board shorts. Let us know when you can take time off, and we'll make it work.
January 7, 2008 - Hudson
On our last morning in Hudson we had a bunch of errands to do. We went to the post office to mail one of the items that we had sold on eBay, the broken phone to the eBay seller, and a few packages back east. We also stopped into the AAA office and picked up new international drivers permits for the coming year. For our last meal in the States Mom served us lamb, which she admitted was like carrying coals to Newcastle.
At the airport, Mom and Dad stood by as we checked in our bags, just in case Continental, our domestic carrier, rejected the backpack containing the transformer or any of the other questionable stuff we were carrying. Continental accepted everything with amazed commentary about how one little backpack could be so heavy. Everything was going along pretty smoothly until they told us that the overage charge was going to be $146 per bag. Stop the presses. We described how their website had said that Continental was going to charge us $25 for each bag that weighed between 50 and 70 lbs, and how the website for Air New Zealand, our international carrier, described how Air New Zealand was was going to charge $30 per heavy bag, which should total $55 per overweight bag. Continental explained that all the airlines gotten together and created system for determining the overage charges for excess baggage checked in on multiple carriers. The result is that the combined fees could be greater than the sum of the two carriers' fees. Really? Well, we've got a system too. Here is your $25 per heavy bag. Just check us and the bags through to LAX, we'll pick them up there, and then check in separately with Air New Zealand.
The only potential problem with our plan was that we were going to have a tight layover at LAX. So, we were both a bit stressed as we headed through security at CLE. It was half an hour later, while we were waiting to board our flight to LA, that I realized that if I had really been on my game at the check-in counter, I would have had the two heavy bags checked only to LA and the two bags that were just under the 50lb limit checked all the way through. Since 9-11 an international flight won't take off if a passenger isn't on board but their baggage is. They will page the delinquent passenger several times before pulling the bags off and taking off without them and their luggage. If I had checked two of the bags through, I could have exploited this policy to buy us some time at LAX if we needed it.
As it turned out, our plan worked beautifully. We landed in LA on-time, and picked up our baggage at terminal 6 (somewhat surprised that they were all there), booked across the parking lot to terminal 2 (no time to wait for a shuttle bus), and arrived at the Air New Zealand check-in counter to find a relatively short line. Once we started to check in with Air New Zealand, we had another surprise that could have gone very badly for us, but ended up working out in our favor. The agent noticed right away that we didn't have return tickets from New Zealand. While she was still explaining how this was an issue, I was already pulling out a slew of paperwork for her to fax to the customs folks back in Auckland. She took our US Coast Guard registration and our inbound customs clearance forms from our arrival at Opua on Halloween, and headed into a back room to fax them to New Zealand. As she left, she told another agent to finish tagging our bags. Neither agent noticed or, if they did notice, cared that we had two bags with a plethora of bright orange "heavy" tags on them. When the bags were tagged, the second agent waved us over to the baggage folks who x-ray the bags before they get sent down the conveyor belt. With another round of "how did that little backpack get so heavy?" (gold bars, baby, gold bars) our bags were once again out of our hands. And all we had to pay was the $50 we handed over at the Continental counter at CLE, which is quite a bit less than the $292 that Continental had wanted to charge us to check both bags through to Auckland.
At the airport, Mom and Dad stood by as we checked in our bags, just in case Continental, our domestic carrier, rejected the backpack containing the transformer or any of the other questionable stuff we were carrying. Continental accepted everything with amazed commentary about how one little backpack could be so heavy. Everything was going along pretty smoothly until they told us that the overage charge was going to be $146 per bag. Stop the presses. We described how their website had said that Continental was going to charge us $25 for each bag that weighed between 50 and 70 lbs, and how the website for Air New Zealand, our international carrier, described how Air New Zealand was was going to charge $30 per heavy bag, which should total $55 per overweight bag. Continental explained that all the airlines gotten together and created system for determining the overage charges for excess baggage checked in on multiple carriers. The result is that the combined fees could be greater than the sum of the two carriers' fees. Really? Well, we've got a system too. Here is your $25 per heavy bag. Just check us and the bags through to LAX, we'll pick them up there, and then check in separately with Air New Zealand.
The only potential problem with our plan was that we were going to have a tight layover at LAX. So, we were both a bit stressed as we headed through security at CLE. It was half an hour later, while we were waiting to board our flight to LA, that I realized that if I had really been on my game at the check-in counter, I would have had the two heavy bags checked only to LA and the two bags that were just under the 50lb limit checked all the way through. Since 9-11 an international flight won't take off if a passenger isn't on board but their baggage is. They will page the delinquent passenger several times before pulling the bags off and taking off without them and their luggage. If I had checked two of the bags through, I could have exploited this policy to buy us some time at LAX if we needed it.
As it turned out, our plan worked beautifully. We landed in LA on-time, and picked up our baggage at terminal 6 (somewhat surprised that they were all there), booked across the parking lot to terminal 2 (no time to wait for a shuttle bus), and arrived at the Air New Zealand check-in counter to find a relatively short line. Once we started to check in with Air New Zealand, we had another surprise that could have gone very badly for us, but ended up working out in our favor. The agent noticed right away that we didn't have return tickets from New Zealand. While she was still explaining how this was an issue, I was already pulling out a slew of paperwork for her to fax to the customs folks back in Auckland. She took our US Coast Guard registration and our inbound customs clearance forms from our arrival at Opua on Halloween, and headed into a back room to fax them to New Zealand. As she left, she told another agent to finish tagging our bags. Neither agent noticed or, if they did notice, cared that we had two bags with a plethora of bright orange "heavy" tags on them. When the bags were tagged, the second agent waved us over to the baggage folks who x-ray the bags before they get sent down the conveyor belt. With another round of "how did that little backpack get so heavy?" (gold bars, baby, gold bars) our bags were once again out of our hands. And all we had to pay was the $50 we handed over at the Continental counter at CLE, which is quite a bit less than the $292 that Continental had wanted to charge us to check both bags through to Auckland.
January 6, 2008 - Hudson, Ohio
Yesterday, after lunch with Kate and PJ, we drove back to Hudson. When we arrived, we discovered that the boat parts we had sold on eBay had fetched good prices, but that the new GSM quadband cell phone (in other words, a phone that we should be able to use anywhere in the world where there is cell coverage) that we "won" on eBay was damaged. The seller agreed to refund our money, but I would have much rather had the phone. A similar phone is going to cost us twice as much in New Zealand. And it won't be such a pretty color.
I think Sten is secretly relieved that he won't have to be seen with an aqua blue phone.
Our challenge today is to get all of the stuff that accumulated over the past month packed into 4 checked bags and 2 carry-on bags. I actually started this process a week ago, when we were last in Hudson. I dutifully researched the baggage allowance of both our domestic and international carriers. Any way I crunch the numbers or shift our gear among the bags, we're going to be paying overage fees. We just have too much stuff. In addition to 30 lbs of travel guides and cruising guides, 12 lbs of tequila, 18 lbs of shampoo and conditioner (a total extravagance I know, but I simply can't live without Kiehl's 133 - the best conditioner ever made for fine hair - and they don't sell it down under), 11 lbs of DVD's, 2 laptops, a couple of jars of our favorite Frontera salsa, and a few items of clothing we still had a big pile of tools and boat parts to pack.
The sticky wicket was a 60 lb transformer. The problem is that both airlines have a 50 lb per bag weight allowance. Anything over 50 and under 70, they'll accept, but over 70 and they can refuse to take it aboard. Sten opened up the transformer case to see if we could put parts of it in two different bags, but the innards were all embedded in epoxy. After some hemming an hawing about whether to put it back in its shipping crate, Sten ended up packing it in an old North Face backpack, lined with latex foam. Between the added weight of the foam and the bag, the whole package was just under the 70 lb maximum allowance. After a few tense hours, and several strained muscles, by mid-afternoon we were packed, and could enjoy our last evening in the States hanging out with my parents and grandparents.
I think Sten is secretly relieved that he won't have to be seen with an aqua blue phone.Our challenge today is to get all of the stuff that accumulated over the past month packed into 4 checked bags and 2 carry-on bags. I actually started this process a week ago, when we were last in Hudson. I dutifully researched the baggage allowance of both our domestic and international carriers. Any way I crunch the numbers or shift our gear among the bags, we're going to be paying overage fees. We just have too much stuff. In addition to 30 lbs of travel guides and cruising guides, 12 lbs of tequila, 18 lbs of shampoo and conditioner (a total extravagance I know, but I simply can't live without Kiehl's 133 - the best conditioner ever made for fine hair - and they don't sell it down under), 11 lbs of DVD's, 2 laptops, a couple of jars of our favorite Frontera salsa, and a few items of clothing we still had a big pile of tools and boat parts to pack.
The sticky wicket was a 60 lb transformer. The problem is that both airlines have a 50 lb per bag weight allowance. Anything over 50 and under 70, they'll accept, but over 70 and they can refuse to take it aboard. Sten opened up the transformer case to see if we could put parts of it in two different bags, but the innards were all embedded in epoxy. After some hemming an hawing about whether to put it back in its shipping crate, Sten ended up packing it in an old North Face backpack, lined with latex foam. Between the added weight of the foam and the bag, the whole package was just under the 70 lb maximum allowance. After a few tense hours, and several strained muscles, by mid-afternoon we were packed, and could enjoy our last evening in the States hanging out with my parents and grandparents.
January 4, 2008 - Chicago
Deb had some showings scheduled for her condo on Friday and Saturday, so we moved over to Kate & PJ's house after broomball Thursday night. We spent Friday checking out their local brunch spot, hanging out with their adorable dog Lucy, refining our Wii skills, and catching up on Lost. We took time out of this demanding schedule to whip up a pitcher of margaritas to take with us to Sol de Mexico, a byob (or in our case byom) joint, that evening. I have to apologize to the other customers - we were that table - the group, who brought their own cocktail shaker, loudly mixing drinks and enjoying each other's company as much as the food. And props to Rob for making a last minute beer run just before the appetizers came. It was a really fun night, and we so appreciated everyone indulging our craving for Mexican one last time and trekking all the way over to N. Cicero for our last night in town.
January 3, 2008 - Chicago
Rather than buying a boat and spending the rest of your life savings to fix it up so that you can sail to the South Pacific, just go to the Field Museum. It is far cheaper and requires fewer vaccinations. We were completely blown away by the exhibit on tropical atolls at the Field. They got it spot on, all the way down to the busted flip flops and other trash washed up on the coral rubble beach. And all we had to do to get from the atolls to Papeete was to stroll into the next room. No dangerous reef pass and overnight sail required! It was totally surreal to find ourselves standing in the such familiar places, wearing jeans, lots of wool and our winter coats.
The exhibit also included displays on PNG, Vanuatu and Micronesia, all places that we may find ourselves this coming year. As we wandered from room to room, it was a bit like viewing a coming attractions reel.
This evening, while Kate and I sat in her parked car enjoying heated seats, baked brie and chardonnay, Sten and PJ joined Deb and Mike in their weekly game of broomball. "What is broomball?" you might ask. It is a game, played on an ice rink, in the bitter cold of winter, much like ice hockey. The footwear is sans blades, the sticks are shaped a bit different, and they are used to hit a round object similar to a small soccer ball, rather than a hockey puck, but the rules are pretty similar to those for ice hockey. The more important question is: "Why anyone would willing go outside in this weather?" Our year in the tropics has made us very soft indeed - but not so soft that Sten didn't score one of the team's three goals of the night.
That's my sexy husband, sprawled in front of the net after his goal. This might really be his best angle.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
January 2, 2008 - Chicago
On Tuesday, while we recovered from New Year's Eve, Mike proved that he was a Blokus prodigy. He handed my butt to me three times in a row - including the game where I was ostensibly teaching him how to play. Then he proceeded to school Sten in the finer points of the two person version of the game.
On Wednesday, while most of our friends reported back to work, Sten and I wandered around the city. It was brutally cold. As we walked by one of the television stations, we noted the LCD display wrapping around the side of the building with the headlines of the day, include one about how it was "Dangerously Cold" and that "Residents Were Advised to Remain Indoors." Deb, emailing us from the comfort of her office, tried to put a positive spin on the situation by claiming that although it was three degrees (Fahrenheit) out, it really felt like twelve.
The only thing that could have motivated us out of Deb and Mike's warm apartment was our cravings for good Mexican food. Several years ago, when I was interviewing at law schools, Sten and I visited Chicago. The first night we were in town, we followed a concierge's advice and went to Frontera Grill. As we sat at the bar, knocking back the best margaritas of our young lives, we puzzled our way through a menu that neither of us understood, being from areas of the country completely devoid of good Mexican (Chili's and Taco Bell don't count, as much as I love both institutions). Little did we know that we were sitting in one of the best Mexican restaurants in the country. Over a phenomenal meal, where each bite was a revelation about how good this cuisine could be, we decided that we had to move to Chicago - a decision we never regretted.
Every time we visit the Windy City, we dine at Frontera, its fancier sibling, Topolobampo, or one of the many restaurants opened by graduates of the Frontera kitchen. Unfortunately for us, this visit coincided with the Frontera crew's annual vacation. The day was saved when we discovered that Frontera recently spun off a food court location in the Macy's on State Street. We hit Frontera Fresco for lunch on Wednesday. We both enjoyed tortilla soup, goat cheese and corn tamales, chips and guacamole (which actually paled in comparison to the guacamole made by Cuau for NYE at Kate and PJ's).
After lunch, we wandered up Michigan Avenue, stopping at Garrett Popcorn for dessert. Neither of us had actually ever been to this local institution because the lines usually extend down the block. But 2pm on a Wednesday afternoon seems to be the ideal time to pop in.
To thank Deb and Mike for their hospitality, we made dinner for them and Kate and PJ. After dinner, Mike cemented his title as Blokus King by beating up on the rest of us.
On Wednesday, while most of our friends reported back to work, Sten and I wandered around the city. It was brutally cold. As we walked by one of the television stations, we noted the LCD display wrapping around the side of the building with the headlines of the day, include one about how it was "Dangerously Cold" and that "Residents Were Advised to Remain Indoors." Deb, emailing us from the comfort of her office, tried to put a positive spin on the situation by claiming that although it was three degrees (Fahrenheit) out, it really felt like twelve.
The only thing that could have motivated us out of Deb and Mike's warm apartment was our cravings for good Mexican food. Several years ago, when I was interviewing at law schools, Sten and I visited Chicago. The first night we were in town, we followed a concierge's advice and went to Frontera Grill. As we sat at the bar, knocking back the best margaritas of our young lives, we puzzled our way through a menu that neither of us understood, being from areas of the country completely devoid of good Mexican (Chili's and Taco Bell don't count, as much as I love both institutions). Little did we know that we were sitting in one of the best Mexican restaurants in the country. Over a phenomenal meal, where each bite was a revelation about how good this cuisine could be, we decided that we had to move to Chicago - a decision we never regretted.Every time we visit the Windy City, we dine at Frontera, its fancier sibling, Topolobampo, or one of the many restaurants opened by graduates of the Frontera kitchen. Unfortunately for us, this visit coincided with the Frontera crew's annual vacation. The day was saved when we discovered that Frontera recently spun off a food court location in the Macy's on State Street. We hit Frontera Fresco for lunch on Wednesday. We both enjoyed tortilla soup, goat cheese and corn tamales, chips and guacamole (which actually paled in comparison to the guacamole made by Cuau for NYE at Kate and PJ's).
After lunch, we wandered up Michigan Avenue, stopping at Garrett Popcorn for dessert. Neither of us had actually ever been to this local institution because the lines usually extend down the block. But 2pm on a Wednesday afternoon seems to be the ideal time to pop in.
To thank Deb and Mike for their hospitality, we made dinner for them and Kate and PJ. After dinner, Mike cemented his title as Blokus King by beating up on the rest of us.
December 31, 2007 - Chicago
Mid-afternoon on New Years Eve, Deb (with whom we were staying), Sten and I headed over to Sam's Wine Warehouse to pick up a few last minute libations. We were not the only ones in Chicago with this thought - the place was hopping. In addition to a few bottles of bubbly, we grabbed a couple of bottles of Chinaco, our favorite tequila, to bring with us back to New Zealand. After Sam's, we picked up Mike, Deb's boyfriend, and headed over to a pizza joint in Bucktown, to lay down a solid base for the evenings festivities. The couple at the table next to us were having such a heated argument that we were afraid we were going to be wearing their pizza before it was all over.
For the main event, we headed over to Kate and PJ's house for a party. They laid out a great spread of food, but I quickly became obsessed with the guacamole. After I found out that Cuau had made it, I pestered him for all his secrets. It looks like I'm going to have to learn to work with tomatillos.
I was still recovering from too many margaritas the night before, so I volunteered to be the designated driver. After the festivities at Kate and PJ's house, the drive home was like playing dodgeball, as drunkards stumbled out in front of us at every turn. I swear, this driving stuff is much more dangerous than sailing.
For the main event, we headed over to Kate and PJ's house for a party. They laid out a great spread of food, but I quickly became obsessed with the guacamole. After I found out that Cuau had made it, I pestered him for all his secrets. It looks like I'm going to have to learn to work with tomatillos.
I was still recovering from too many margaritas the night before, so I volunteered to be the designated driver. After the festivities at Kate and PJ's house, the drive home was like playing dodgeball, as drunkards stumbled out in front of us at every turn. I swear, this driving stuff is much more dangerous than sailing.
December 30, 2007 - Chicago, Illinois
Since everything I know about horseflesh begins and ends with the fact that Catherine the Great was a big fan, the finer aspects of our first outing in Chicago were wasted on me. But Sten, whose sister used to ride, assures me that the horses performing in the Noble Horse Theater's rendition of the Nutcracker, were doing some pretty tricky maneuvers. The rest of us were just glad that we weren't completely sober.
After the show, we headed over to a Mexican restaurant in the Old Town neighborhood. Over many beers and pitchers of margaritas, we caught up with our Chicago friends. At one point, and I'm a bit fuzzy on the details due to the aforementioned margaritas, Rob leaned across the table, and confided that he had bought us a gun. But more about that later.
After the show, we headed over to a Mexican restaurant in the Old Town neighborhood. Over many beers and pitchers of margaritas, we caught up with our Chicago friends. At one point, and I'm a bit fuzzy on the details due to the aforementioned margaritas, Rob leaned across the table, and confided that he had bought us a gun. But more about that later.
December 29, 2007 - Hudson, OH
Our sixth installment of Christmas took place today in Hudson with my parents, grandparents, sister, several stray cats and bottles of prosecco. Despite all the crazy traveling we've been doing this past month, this has been the most relaxing holiday season we've ever had. The key is that we started our Christmas shopping last Spring in the Galapagos and finished it in New Zealand in November. We spent a day in Hudson after Thanksgiving wrapping presents. Then all we had to do was to sit back and enjoy the season. It has been blissful. I turned to Sten earlier and announced that we were going to start shopping for next Christmas as soon as we got back to New Zealand.
Two weeks ago, I ordered a dozen flags from US Flag to use as courtesy flags at our landfalls this coming year. The material is very thin - much thinner than the heavy duty flags sold at marine stores - but at less than 1/10th the price, I'm not complaining. The flags arrived mounted on dowels, which we quickly disposed of. We planned to add grommets to make it possible to fly them from a flag halyard. After assessing the thinness of the flags, we figured that the grommets would pull out pretty quickly. So, Alena took me by the hand and guided me through the local fabric store, a place that I would have otherwise found completely foreign and overwhelming - much more so than any of the island markets I've provisioned at this past year. When we arrived home with the goods, Sten took over and sewed binding tape to one edge of each flag before pounding the grommets in. At less than $3 for each flag and the other materials, we saved a substantial amount compared to marine store prices. When they wear out, and they certainly will, we'll buy replacements in country. Meanwhile, mom helped me, or more accurately, I tried to help her, customize a new bottom sheet for our centerline queen mattress, which is shaped more or less like a coffin made for two - narrow at the head, wide at the elbows and narrow again at the foot.
Two weeks ago, I ordered a dozen flags from US Flag to use as courtesy flags at our landfalls this coming year. The material is very thin - much thinner than the heavy duty flags sold at marine stores - but at less than 1/10th the price, I'm not complaining. The flags arrived mounted on dowels, which we quickly disposed of. We planned to add grommets to make it possible to fly them from a flag halyard. After assessing the thinness of the flags, we figured that the grommets would pull out pretty quickly. So, Alena took me by the hand and guided me through the local fabric store, a place that I would have otherwise found completely foreign and overwhelming - much more so than any of the island markets I've provisioned at this past year. When we arrived home with the goods, Sten took over and sewed binding tape to one edge of each flag before pounding the grommets in. At less than $3 for each flag and the other materials, we saved a substantial amount compared to marine store prices. When they wear out, and they certainly will, we'll buy replacements in country. Meanwhile, mom helped me, or more accurately, I tried to help her, customize a new bottom sheet for our centerline queen mattress, which is shaped more or less like a coffin made for two - narrow at the head, wide at the elbows and narrow again at the foot.
December 27, 2008 - Jamestown, NY
We left Rhode Island yesterday, after lunch with Carlotta and John. After a long, uneventful drive west along Route 17, we arrived at the Comfort Inn in Jamestown, NY around midnight. After checking in, and stowing the bedspread someplace far, far away from the bed, the first order of business was to find the ice machine so we could chill down the remainder of the bottle of wine we opened at lunch.
This morning, we headed over to the apartment where Doris, Sten's paternal grandmother, has been living for the past ten years. Doris has been downsizing for a few years now, ever since she sold the farm. Our visit coincided with her last day in the apartment, as she was moving to an assisted living facility the next day. Our timing was fantastic. We didn't know it before we arrived, but Sten's aunt and uncle, Debbie and Dean, were also coming into town that day to help out with the move. We enjoyed lunch with Doris, Karen and Jim. The reunion continued over dinner as we got the chance to catch up with Dean, Debbie, and Sten's cousin's Patty and Dotty. It was a great day. We hit the road around 9pm to head west to Hudson.
This morning, we headed over to the apartment where Doris, Sten's paternal grandmother, has been living for the past ten years. Doris has been downsizing for a few years now, ever since she sold the farm. Our visit coincided with her last day in the apartment, as she was moving to an assisted living facility the next day. Our timing was fantastic. We didn't know it before we arrived, but Sten's aunt and uncle, Debbie and Dean, were also coming into town that day to help out with the move. We enjoyed lunch with Doris, Karen and Jim. The reunion continued over dinner as we got the chance to catch up with Dean, Debbie, and Sten's cousin's Patty and Dotty. It was a great day. We hit the road around 9pm to head west to Hudson.
December 26, 2007 - Newport
Holiday gift exchanges two (with Bill and Laurie), three (with Miriam, Sten's maternal grandmother), four (with Suzy and Ingrid) and five (with JoAnn) took place during the run up to Christmas. On Sunday night we headed over to Jamestown to enjoy a seafood feast and present exchange at Bill and Laurie's. On the way back over the bridge to Newport, the wind was gusting fiercely. It was exciting driving trying to keep the car on the road. Uncle John told us that the anemometer at his house in Jamestown recorded winds of 72 mph during the storm - much more than we've ever seen offshore.
On Christmas day, Sten and I headed down to our favorite beach in Newport to clean it up a bit. It is right on the mouth of Narragansett bay, making it a great place to watch boat and ship traffic in and out of the bay. It is also a favorite spot of the local fishermen.
Unfortunately, the fishermen leave their crap behind. We picked up 8 bags full of beer bottles, styrofoam Dunkin' Donuts cups, and broken lobster traps.
We filled the back of Suzy's car. I really wanted to dump it in front of a Dunkin' Donuts, but we came across a dumpster behind a liquor store first, and figured that was suitable enough.
Our last holiday celebration in New England was lunch with Carlotta and John. Suzy laid out an amazing spread of lobster salad and other New England summer treats. We enjoyed hearing about John and Carlotta's travels this past year. Just before we hit the road, Suzy gave us a picnic dinner of lobster rolls to snack on as we drove west.
December 23, 2007 - Boston
On Saturday we headed back up to Boston for Jay and John's baby shower, which had actually been scheduled for the prior weekend, but was rescheduled on account of the snow storm. The shower was really well attended for being two days before Christmas. We were really excited to catch up with Heath and other old friends. It was also a great chance for us to meet some of the other folks who have become important to Jay and John over the past year.
Over brunch Sunday morning we had our first present exchange of the holiday season. We cracked up when we opened a card with a wad of New Zealand dollars inside. It was really the perfect present - super useful, and it takes up none of our luggage allowance.
Over brunch Sunday morning we had our first present exchange of the holiday season. We cracked up when we opened a card with a wad of New Zealand dollars inside. It was really the perfect present - super useful, and it takes up none of our luggage allowance.
Friday, December 21, 2007
December 21, 2007 - Newport
Newport, Bristol and Portsmouth, Rhode Island have a wonderful array of marine services. We spent this week taking full advantage of having a car and being a few miles from our favorite vendors. We've made the rounds to Depaul Diesel to price out generator spares, Ocean Link for spare parts for our Spectra Watermaker, and Newport Nautical (a great marine consignment store) for a shore power adapter.
As part of our refit we bought a new main sail from Thurston Sails, part of the Quantum group. As you might recall, our shakedown sail after a year on the hard was the run from Newport to Bermuda - not the smartest thing we've ever done. On that passage, when we weren't hove to in a gale, we noticed that our new main developed a terrible vibration when we were on a reach. By the time we arrived in Sint Maarten, it was driving us crazy. We talked to the local sailmakers and had some long calls with Thurston, but short of adding additional intermediate bat-cars to the sail, there didn't seem to be a solution. So we lived with it. 13,000 miles later, the battens in the section of the sail that vibrates have disintegrated at the point where they insert into the bat-cars. After an hour of consultation (including a review of video footage of the problem) with Gary at Thurston, we now have a handful of fixes to try when we get back to New Zealand.
All this shopping works up a mighty hunger. For lunch on Tuesday, we tucked into a Blue Cow at West Main Pizza, which, for my money, is the best pizza on the planet (granted, I've never been Naples). Ground beef, bacon and blue cheese - what's not to love? We love it so much that, when I flew back to Aruba after bringing Lenore home to live with Suzy last April, I brought a Blue Cow in my carry-on for Sten, undoubtedly violating several of Aruba's biosecurity laws.
Sten - getting his grill on in the frozen north
As part of our refit we bought a new main sail from Thurston Sails, part of the Quantum group. As you might recall, our shakedown sail after a year on the hard was the run from Newport to Bermuda - not the smartest thing we've ever done. On that passage, when we weren't hove to in a gale, we noticed that our new main developed a terrible vibration when we were on a reach. By the time we arrived in Sint Maarten, it was driving us crazy. We talked to the local sailmakers and had some long calls with Thurston, but short of adding additional intermediate bat-cars to the sail, there didn't seem to be a solution. So we lived with it. 13,000 miles later, the battens in the section of the sail that vibrates have disintegrated at the point where they insert into the bat-cars. After an hour of consultation (including a review of video footage of the problem) with Gary at Thurston, we now have a handful of fixes to try when we get back to New Zealand.
All this shopping works up a mighty hunger. For lunch on Tuesday, we tucked into a Blue Cow at West Main Pizza, which, for my money, is the best pizza on the planet (granted, I've never been Naples). Ground beef, bacon and blue cheese - what's not to love? We love it so much that, when I flew back to Aruba after bringing Lenore home to live with Suzy last April, I brought a Blue Cow in my carry-on for Sten, undoubtedly violating several of Aruba's biosecurity laws.
Sten - getting his grill on in the frozen northI got hit with the snot stick on Sunday afternoon. Five days later, I'm still struggling to get over it. The saddest part of being sick for me isn't the aches and pains; it is being unable to taste a thing when someone puts a nice glass of wine in front of me - in this case a Viognier that Sten's father, Bill, poured with dinner on Wednesday night. I could tell that it was white and fruity, but the rest of it was lost to me. Such a pity.
While I nursed my cold in the cozy confines of Suzy's house (still the best BnB in Newport) Sten went up to Milford, MA, on Thursday to visit his former coworkers at Milton CAT. As he reported back to me, the ladies in the office were most impressed that we are still speaking to each other after so much time alone together. Do they know something about my husband that I don't? Or, has he been telling them something about me that I should know about?
More seriously, the primary question I got from many of the ladies in attendance at the cruising club gathering in Baltimore was "how can you stand each other after 19 days at sea?" I used to get a similar question from people before we set out on this adventure - "aren't you going to get sick of each other?" Amazingly, we still like each other just fine - probably in large part due to Sten making me coffee each morning and keeping our shower pump working.
The other main question we were asked at the Baltimore dinner was how much this year of cruising cost us. I hadn't yet added it all up, so I promised the other dinner guests that I would run the numbers and report back to them. In the interests of full disclosure, and because there is very little information available about how much it costs to do a trip like this, I'm disclosing the amount here.
In addition to the initial cost of the boat and refit, which is laid out on our website, we spent approximately $30,850 this year. I haven't broken it down into categories (frankly, our record keeping isn't good enough to do so with any accuracy), but I can report that our single biggest line item was $4K for boat insurance. The $31K number also includes $2K for plane tickets and (between the repairs after the Bermuda storm and the additional sun shades we had made in Bequia and Grenada) about $3K of canvas work. In addition, we spent about (and this is just a wild guess) $3K in Sint Maarten, finishing our refit. Backing out those line items, we spent about $19K on other cruising related costs - food, fuel, wine, rum, laundry, entertainment (tours, wifi, bus and taxi fares), clothing (read - flip flops, reef shirts and bikinis), clearance fees (probably about $1.5K), Panama Canal fees, mooring and marina fees (only about $300 for the year) and miscellaneous boat parts. And now the fine print: This is what we spent. Some spent more. Some spent less. If we hadn't spent so much money getting the boat into top shape before we left, we would have undoubtedly spent more money keeping the boat in repair this season.
While I nursed my cold in the cozy confines of Suzy's house (still the best BnB in Newport) Sten went up to Milford, MA, on Thursday to visit his former coworkers at Milton CAT. As he reported back to me, the ladies in the office were most impressed that we are still speaking to each other after so much time alone together. Do they know something about my husband that I don't? Or, has he been telling them something about me that I should know about?
More seriously, the primary question I got from many of the ladies in attendance at the cruising club gathering in Baltimore was "how can you stand each other after 19 days at sea?" I used to get a similar question from people before we set out on this adventure - "aren't you going to get sick of each other?" Amazingly, we still like each other just fine - probably in large part due to Sten making me coffee each morning and keeping our shower pump working.
The other main question we were asked at the Baltimore dinner was how much this year of cruising cost us. I hadn't yet added it all up, so I promised the other dinner guests that I would run the numbers and report back to them. In the interests of full disclosure, and because there is very little information available about how much it costs to do a trip like this, I'm disclosing the amount here.
In addition to the initial cost of the boat and refit, which is laid out on our website, we spent approximately $30,850 this year. I haven't broken it down into categories (frankly, our record keeping isn't good enough to do so with any accuracy), but I can report that our single biggest line item was $4K for boat insurance. The $31K number also includes $2K for plane tickets and (between the repairs after the Bermuda storm and the additional sun shades we had made in Bequia and Grenada) about $3K of canvas work. In addition, we spent about (and this is just a wild guess) $3K in Sint Maarten, finishing our refit. Backing out those line items, we spent about $19K on other cruising related costs - food, fuel, wine, rum, laundry, entertainment (tours, wifi, bus and taxi fares), clothing (read - flip flops, reef shirts and bikinis), clearance fees (probably about $1.5K), Panama Canal fees, mooring and marina fees (only about $300 for the year) and miscellaneous boat parts. And now the fine print: This is what we spent. Some spent more. Some spent less. If we hadn't spent so much money getting the boat into top shape before we left, we would have undoubtedly spent more money keeping the boat in repair this season.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
December 16, 2007 - Boston, Massachusetts
When our friend Jerry heard that we were coming home, he organized a dinner for us and a few friends in Boston's South End. Reservations were made and babysitters organized. Early on Saturday, Sten and I headed up from Rhody to my sister's place in Charlestown. We arrived around lunchtime, picked Alena up and headed over to the North End, Boston's Italian neighborhood. If any further evidence was needed that we live a charmed existence, it arrived in the form of an empty parking space. In the North End. On a Saturday. However, into this charmed existence, a few drops of rain must occasionally fall - in this case, in the form of pink peppercorns.
We were at Polcari's Coffee, stocking up on our favorite peppercorn blend, when I lost my grip on the container of pink peppercorns that I was holding. The lid spun one direction, and little pink balls scattered all over the other spice containers and the floor. Completely embarrassed, I turned as pink as the peppercorns bouncing around my toes. The shopkeepers were so kind about it, but I'm still kind of glad that we won't be back there for a while.
From Salem Street, we headed over to Regina's for pizza. A year of anticipation was just too much for us - we didn't wait nearly long enough to bite into the steaming slices that we were each holding. I came away from the encounter with skin hanging off of the roof of my mouth. Alena just shook her head in bemused pity.
There was never any question about where we were going for dessert. We elbowed our way into Mike's Pastry and lined up at the counter. While we waited our turn, we watched the tourists hem and haw over what they wanted to order, then worry about whether they had enough cash to cover their purchases in this shop that still doesn't accept credit. We laughed as the guy next to us had to fleece his teenage daughter to cover the cost of a carton of cannoli. We grabbed a lobster tail, a couple of cannoli and headed back to Charlestown.
A few hours before our dinner reservation, Alena dropped us off on Newbury Street. While we slowly wandered over to the South End, we kept running into familiar faces - the distributor of our favorite pinot noir doing a wine tasting on Newbury, a former colleague at Restoration Hardware and a friend in the shoe department at Lord & Taylor. After a year of mostly seeing unfamiliar faces, it was such a treat to keep bumping into friends.
Dinner turned into a fiasco. We ended up seated 75 minutes past our 8pm reservation time. The two pregnant ladies in our party were slipping into hypoglycemic shock by the time we sat down. To the restaurant's credit, they did comp some appetizers at the bar and a round of champagne for our crowd. The mismanagement at the front of the house was really too bad - it distracted from the food that the kitchen was producing, which really was very good. Around midnight, a few folks had to leave. We got up to hug them goodbye, and the servers swooped in to clear our barely touched dessert and cheese plates. Talk about getting the bum rush. Irregardless, we had a great time, and many thanks are due to Bjorn, Jerry and Darren for treating us to some excellent food and wine.
Lest we got too homesick while visiting New England, and start entertaining fantasies of selling the boat to move back home to hang out with our friends full time, a nor'easter swooped into town to remind us why we ran away from home in the first place. Alena was parked on a street that is designated a "Snow Emergency Route." If Mayor Mumbles declares a snow emergency, all the cars get towed to make way for the plows. For most of the night, I lay awake listening for the sounds of tow trucks. Thankfully they never materialized. However, digging out the cars the next morning was enough to make us appreciate living in the tropics all over again.
We were at Polcari's Coffee, stocking up on our favorite peppercorn blend, when I lost my grip on the container of pink peppercorns that I was holding. The lid spun one direction, and little pink balls scattered all over the other spice containers and the floor. Completely embarrassed, I turned as pink as the peppercorns bouncing around my toes. The shopkeepers were so kind about it, but I'm still kind of glad that we won't be back there for a while.
From Salem Street, we headed over to Regina's for pizza. A year of anticipation was just too much for us - we didn't wait nearly long enough to bite into the steaming slices that we were each holding. I came away from the encounter with skin hanging off of the roof of my mouth. Alena just shook her head in bemused pity.
There was never any question about where we were going for dessert. We elbowed our way into Mike's Pastry and lined up at the counter. While we waited our turn, we watched the tourists hem and haw over what they wanted to order, then worry about whether they had enough cash to cover their purchases in this shop that still doesn't accept credit. We laughed as the guy next to us had to fleece his teenage daughter to cover the cost of a carton of cannoli. We grabbed a lobster tail, a couple of cannoli and headed back to Charlestown.
A few hours before our dinner reservation, Alena dropped us off on Newbury Street. While we slowly wandered over to the South End, we kept running into familiar faces - the distributor of our favorite pinot noir doing a wine tasting on Newbury, a former colleague at Restoration Hardware and a friend in the shoe department at Lord & Taylor. After a year of mostly seeing unfamiliar faces, it was such a treat to keep bumping into friends.
Dinner turned into a fiasco. We ended up seated 75 minutes past our 8pm reservation time. The two pregnant ladies in our party were slipping into hypoglycemic shock by the time we sat down. To the restaurant's credit, they did comp some appetizers at the bar and a round of champagne for our crowd. The mismanagement at the front of the house was really too bad - it distracted from the food that the kitchen was producing, which really was very good. Around midnight, a few folks had to leave. We got up to hug them goodbye, and the servers swooped in to clear our barely touched dessert and cheese plates. Talk about getting the bum rush. Irregardless, we had a great time, and many thanks are due to Bjorn, Jerry and Darren for treating us to some excellent food and wine.
Lest we got too homesick while visiting New England, and start entertaining fantasies of selling the boat to move back home to hang out with our friends full time, a nor'easter swooped into town to remind us why we ran away from home in the first place. Alena was parked on a street that is designated a "Snow Emergency Route." If Mayor Mumbles declares a snow emergency, all the cars get towed to make way for the plows. For most of the night, I lay awake listening for the sounds of tow trucks. Thankfully they never materialized. However, digging out the cars the next morning was enough to make us appreciate living in the tropics all over again.
December 14, 2007 - Newport, Rhode Island
Sten grew up in Newport. No matter where we have lived, Newport has always been home to him. For the 6 years that we lived in Boston, his mom's place in Newport was our weekend retreat. I used to joke that Suzy ran the best bed and breakfast in Newport.
When we originally set out on our cruising adventure, our kitty, Lenore, was aboard with us. To say that Lenore did not take to the seafaring life is a bit like saying that Richard Henry Dana's Two Years Before the Mast was a tough slog - a bit of an understatement. Last April, I brought her home to live at Suzy's. These past few weeks we have been filled with anticipation about seeing Lenore again. After her difficult experience on the boat, we were worried that she would be standoffish with us. So we were relieved to find her purring away, happy to see us again. As I type this, she is curled up next to me, sleeping on one of Sten's sweaters.
The first order of business was to head over to The Mooring for their world famous chowder. A few years ago, in conjunction with a major renovation of the restaurant, the menu was revamped. The good news is that they didn't monkey with the chowder recipe. The better news is that they introduced a new appetizer called a "bag of doughnuts" - a half dozen fritters stuffed with lobster, crab and shrimp, served with a chipotle - maple aioli; heaven on a plate. Unfortunately, they eighty-sixed Sten's favorite chicken sandwich, but I think it was a fair trade for the fritters. Now, there are some folks, particularly those from the Boston area, who claim that Legal Sea Foods makes the best chowda. They are sadly mistaken. After lunch at The Mooring, we headed down to the docks to take a look at Suzy's boat, a sweet little Cape Dory Typhoon, named Papillion.
On Friday night we had an amazing meal with Bill and Laurie at Spark, a new BYOB in Newport. Great food and service - we hung out and caught up long after desert was done and our plates were cleared, without any pressure to vacate our table.
It hasn't all been stuffing our faces - we have some boat related work to do while we are in town. Our first full day here, we headed down to Armchair Sailor to pick up some charts and look at some cruising guides covering the area that we'll be exploring next season. While sitting on the floor, flipping through cruising guides, I heard the sound of the door chime. I looked up just in time to see Sten's sister, Ingrid, strolling through the back door of the shop. Newport is such a small town.
We've mostly been spending our days seated at the breakfast bar in Suzy's kitchen, researching various things online, and ordering parts to bring with us back to New Zealand. We've found that the marine stores there just don't have the selection or low prices available in the States. Therefore, we'll be taking full advantage of our combined 230 pound baggage allowance on our flights back to Auckland.
When we originally set out on our cruising adventure, our kitty, Lenore, was aboard with us. To say that Lenore did not take to the seafaring life is a bit like saying that Richard Henry Dana's Two Years Before the Mast was a tough slog - a bit of an understatement. Last April, I brought her home to live at Suzy's. These past few weeks we have been filled with anticipation about seeing Lenore again. After her difficult experience on the boat, we were worried that she would be standoffish with us. So we were relieved to find her purring away, happy to see us again. As I type this, she is curled up next to me, sleeping on one of Sten's sweaters.
The first order of business was to head over to The Mooring for their world famous chowder. A few years ago, in conjunction with a major renovation of the restaurant, the menu was revamped. The good news is that they didn't monkey with the chowder recipe. The better news is that they introduced a new appetizer called a "bag of doughnuts" - a half dozen fritters stuffed with lobster, crab and shrimp, served with a chipotle - maple aioli; heaven on a plate. Unfortunately, they eighty-sixed Sten's favorite chicken sandwich, but I think it was a fair trade for the fritters. Now, there are some folks, particularly those from the Boston area, who claim that Legal Sea Foods makes the best chowda. They are sadly mistaken. After lunch at The Mooring, we headed down to the docks to take a look at Suzy's boat, a sweet little Cape Dory Typhoon, named Papillion.
On Friday night we had an amazing meal with Bill and Laurie at Spark, a new BYOB in Newport. Great food and service - we hung out and caught up long after desert was done and our plates were cleared, without any pressure to vacate our table.
It hasn't all been stuffing our faces - we have some boat related work to do while we are in town. Our first full day here, we headed down to Armchair Sailor to pick up some charts and look at some cruising guides covering the area that we'll be exploring next season. While sitting on the floor, flipping through cruising guides, I heard the sound of the door chime. I looked up just in time to see Sten's sister, Ingrid, strolling through the back door of the shop. Newport is such a small town.
We've mostly been spending our days seated at the breakfast bar in Suzy's kitchen, researching various things online, and ordering parts to bring with us back to New Zealand. We've found that the marine stores there just don't have the selection or low prices available in the States. Therefore, we'll be taking full advantage of our combined 230 pound baggage allowance on our flights back to Auckland.
December 11, 2007 - New York, NY
From Philadelphia, we headed north to New York City, to stay with our friends, Chris and Katie and their kids Alex (4.5yo) and Abigail (2.5yo), who relocated from Boston just around the time we left on our trip. We were awestruck by the view of Central Park and the east side of the city from their apartment located on Central Park West.
That night we went out to dinner with Chris and Katie at Buddakan, a restaurant in the Meat Packing District. The space was so dramatic. The only other place in the world I could imagine finding a restaurant like it is Las Vegas.
We visited the Central Park Zoo, the Museum of Natural History, and the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. It was really fun to see the city through the eyes of a child, especially with it (the city, not the child) all dolled up for the holidays.
My favorite stop was Bergdorf's. While we gazed at their legendary holiday windows, I leaned down to whisper to Abigail, as she sat in her stroller munching a pretzel, that Bergdorf's was a magical place, where you could buy handbags that make you feel beautiful and shoes that make you feel skinny.
A sailor's valentine - a Bergdorf window, completely encrusted in seashells (see the link above for a short movie about Bergdorf's 2007 holiday windows)
As we wandered around, Alex asked endless questions. Each answer led to another question. As we walked past a menorah, he asked "Do you celebrate Christmas?"
I responded, "Yes, I'm Catholic."
"Does Sten?"
"Yes."
"Is he cat-lick?"
"No, he's Episcopalian."
"What's 'pis-ca-palian?"
"It's like Catholic, only without the guilt."
"What's guilt?" That one was a bit more difficult to explain. Later on Katie caught me telling Alex not to lie unless he thought he could get away with it - clearly I've got a way to go before I qualify for my parenting license. Sten was a total natural. Within minutes of our arrival, he was getting tackled by both kids as they played touch football in the entrance hall of the apartment.
Before we picked up 95 North to Rhode Island, we swung out to Long Island to visit our friends Patti and Jeremy and their 1 year old, Gavin. All smiles and giggles, Gavin got his first bite of brisket as Jeremy dished up a terrific Tennessee BBQ feast, complete with sweet tea.
That night we went out to dinner with Chris and Katie at Buddakan, a restaurant in the Meat Packing District. The space was so dramatic. The only other place in the world I could imagine finding a restaurant like it is Las Vegas.The next day, while Chris was off earning an honest living, Katie, Alex and Abigail played tour guide for us slackers. Meet our tourguides:
My favorite stop was Bergdorf's. While we gazed at their legendary holiday windows, I leaned down to whisper to Abigail, as she sat in her stroller munching a pretzel, that Bergdorf's was a magical place, where you could buy handbags that make you feel beautiful and shoes that make you feel skinny.
A sailor's valentine - a Bergdorf window, completely encrusted in seashells (see the link above for a short movie about Bergdorf's 2007 holiday windows)I responded, "Yes, I'm Catholic."
"Does Sten?"
"Yes."
"Is he cat-lick?"
"No, he's Episcopalian."
"What's 'pis-ca-palian?"
"It's like Catholic, only without the guilt."
"What's guilt?" That one was a bit more difficult to explain. Later on Katie caught me telling Alex not to lie unless he thought he could get away with it - clearly I've got a way to go before I qualify for my parenting license. Sten was a total natural. Within minutes of our arrival, he was getting tackled by both kids as they played touch football in the entrance hall of the apartment.
Before we picked up 95 North to Rhode Island, we swung out to Long Island to visit our friends Patti and Jeremy and their 1 year old, Gavin. All smiles and giggles, Gavin got his first bite of brisket as Jeremy dished up a terrific Tennessee BBQ feast, complete with sweet tea.
Friday, December 14, 2007
December 9, 2007 - Philadelphia, PA
During the six years that we were living and working in Boston, our friend Matt came up to stay with us several times. We never managed to make time to get down to Philly to stay with him. Several years overdue, we arrived at Matt's house in the Fishtown neighborhood of Philly in the midst of a snow squall on Wednesday afternoon. What better way is there to spend a snowy afternoon than catching up, watching movies and sampling the local lager and Indian takeaway? And what would be a more appropriate dessert than a Tastycake?
Two hearty (or is it hardy?) souls returning from the local beer distributor
That night, Matt introduced us to his girlfriend, Monica, and a Philly phenomenon, Quizzo - trivia played in bars for cash and prizes. On Thursday, we made a bit of time for some culture, and made our way over to the Philadelphia Museum of Art's new Pearlman building, where we got chased out of a fashion exhibit by a gaggle of Ladies Who Lunch, their ponchos flapping menacingly around their elbows. We hid in a fantastic exhibit of mid-century modern furniture until the coast was clear.
That night Sten, Matt and I played Quizzo again at the Abbaye, a bar in the artsy neighborhood of Northern Liberties. While we waited for Matt to arrive from teaching a class, Sten and I split the Abbaye's gourmet version of a Philly cheesesteak - filet marinated in Chimay, topped with caramelized onions and grueyer cheese. It wasn't traditional, but it was tasty. As for the Quizzo match, Sten and I didn't have nearly as much to contribute as Matt's usual teammates, and we slunk out of the bar in shame before the winners were announced.
On Friday afternoon we headed out to the suburbs to visit college friends, Chris and Jess. Over lunch we caught up and batted around an idea for a start-up. Friday night found us back in Northern Liberties for sushi and dancing. When we arrived at the 700 Club, nobody was dancing. Not recognizing any of the tunes that the DJ was spinning, but figuring that we were never going to see any of the haughty hipsters leaning against the bar ever again, we took over the dance floor. Poor Monica, who is likely to show her face around the place again, was a bit horrified by our flailing. By the time the floor was full, we had found some rhythm, but by then we were hidden among the crowd of skinny jean, striped shirt wearing twenty-somethings.
On Saturday, still recovering from our exertions the night before and way too much brunch in Old City, we went into Center City to do some Christmas shopping. We wrapped up our trip to Philly with Sunday brunch at home, complete with Sten's signature banana walnut pancakes.
Two hearty (or is it hardy?) souls returning from the local beer distributorThat night, Matt introduced us to his girlfriend, Monica, and a Philly phenomenon, Quizzo - trivia played in bars for cash and prizes. On Thursday, we made a bit of time for some culture, and made our way over to the Philadelphia Museum of Art's new Pearlman building, where we got chased out of a fashion exhibit by a gaggle of Ladies Who Lunch, their ponchos flapping menacingly around their elbows. We hid in a fantastic exhibit of mid-century modern furniture until the coast was clear.
That night Sten, Matt and I played Quizzo again at the Abbaye, a bar in the artsy neighborhood of Northern Liberties. While we waited for Matt to arrive from teaching a class, Sten and I split the Abbaye's gourmet version of a Philly cheesesteak - filet marinated in Chimay, topped with caramelized onions and grueyer cheese. It wasn't traditional, but it was tasty. As for the Quizzo match, Sten and I didn't have nearly as much to contribute as Matt's usual teammates, and we slunk out of the bar in shame before the winners were announced.On Friday afternoon we headed out to the suburbs to visit college friends, Chris and Jess. Over lunch we caught up and batted around an idea for a start-up. Friday night found us back in Northern Liberties for sushi and dancing. When we arrived at the 700 Club, nobody was dancing. Not recognizing any of the tunes that the DJ was spinning, but figuring that we were never going to see any of the haughty hipsters leaning against the bar ever again, we took over the dance floor. Poor Monica, who is likely to show her face around the place again, was a bit horrified by our flailing. By the time the floor was full, we had found some rhythm, but by then we were hidden among the crowd of skinny jean, striped shirt wearing twenty-somethings.
On Saturday, still recovering from our exertions the night before and way too much brunch in Old City, we went into Center City to do some Christmas shopping. We wrapped up our trip to Philly with Sunday brunch at home, complete with Sten's signature banana walnut pancakes.
December 4, 2007 - Baltimore, Maryland
Walking past the stalls of produce, seafood and fried chicken in the main section of Baltimore's Lexington Market (the country's longest running public market) we reached our destination in the back - Faidley's Sea Food. Faidley's is famous for its lump crab cake, so we had to check them out. With one platter, one alacarte, and a glass of half and half (half lemonade, half iced tea) we sidled up to one of the three long tables to stand and eat our crab cakes. They were a revelation. Large lumps of crab meat, barely clung to each other in a light binder of mayo, crumbled saltines and spices. The binder contained just a hint of Old Bay Seasoning, which too often overwhelms the delicate flavor of crab. The predominant spice seemed to be mustard. Following the lead of a lady standing at the table behind Sten, I mixed a bit of additional mustard into my tartar sauce. Amazing. If you find yourself in Baltimore, don't miss Faidley's.We found ourselves in Baltimore at the invitation of Mike and Sig at Pritchard Brown. Back when Sten was gainfully employed, he used to work with several folks at PB, including Mike. Almost a year ago, Mike told Sig what we were up to. Sig checked out the website, dropped us a line, and became the first of our website friends - people we wouldn't know if not for this blog. When we were planning our winter road trip, we dropped Sig a line to tell him we would be passing through his neighborhood and to ask if we could drop in at PB. Sig saw our offer, and raised us 16 - the number of folks from his cruising club who would like to hear us opine about all manner of stuff. Totally entertained by the fact that anyone care to hear what we had to say about anything, we accepted.
After lunch at Faidley's we headed to PB, where we were issued safety glassed and Mike gave us a tour of the manufacturing facility. After the tour, we got together with some more of the PB team in a conference room. To our surprise, there was a cake decorated with a map of our trip to date. As we sat around the table, Sig started asking us questions about our trip. I've clearly got to be more careful about what I write in this blog . . .
From PB, we followed Sig back to his house where we were joined by several of the members of the Northern Star Hunter Sailing Association. Patricia, Sig's wife, prepared a feast that everyone enjoyed. After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room for a question and answer session. Sten and I were both a bit nervous that the other guests were going to ask us questions that would reveal how little we actually know, but I think we managed to maintain the facade.
Check out the second guy to my left - that's Tom, and in his lap is his very intimidating four page list of questions.December 3, 2007 - Washington, D.C.
Washington is a great place to play tourist with a car. Parking is prohibited along most major thoroughfares during the morning and afternoon rush hours; so, by the time we rolled our lazy bums out of bed and made our way downtown, there were plenty of places to park our car. The first item on our agenda was lunch with one of my former co-workers. Brad met us at Rasika, an Indian restaurant. We all agreed that the fried spinach appetizer was absolutely amazing. Brad inadvertently reminded me how glad I was not to be employed by whipping out his Blackberry several times during lunch. In fact, the only time I've missed my job this past year was while trying on shoes at Nordstrom with my mom just after Thanksgiving. As I stared down at the beautiful coral snakeskin open-toe sling backs, I suddenly longed for the desk job that allowed me to wear such ridiculous shoes.
After lunch, we headed over to the Holocaust Memorial Museum. The exhibits begin on the fourth floor, so we made our way over to the elevators, where we each received an identification card assigning each of us the identity of one of the European Jews, gypsies, Czechs, Poles, Soviet prisoners of war, communists, political dissidents, homosexuals, Freemasons, or Jehovah's Witnesses who lived during the holocaust. Although the museum was clearly uncrowded, the docent insisted that we and two other adults crowd into an elevator along with a giggling pack of high school students. The crowding seemed unnecessary, until the doors opened and we realized that the gray, steel-clad elevator was designed to look like a gas chamber and that the crowding was intentional, as it was meant to recreate the experience of entering a gas chamber. As the doors closed, the students fell silent. Over the next two hours, as we moved through the museum and mingled with the students, we noticed that they never regained their jocularity.
The HMM puts the museum visitor right inside the experience, rather than allowing him or her to stand at some remove and simply view exhibits. At one point the path through the exhibits winds through a boxcar once used to transport European Jews to ghettos and concentration camps. At another it passes under the sign "arbeit macht frei," which once hung over the gates of Auschwitz. At yet another, the visitor finds himself or herself standing inside a portion of a bunkhouse from the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp. The whole experience is profoundly personal.
At 4pm we had to move our car, so it was off to the Tidal Basin to check out the FDR Monument.
Continuing the mid-century theme, we trekked over to the World War II Monument, which looks like something that would have been erected in Vichy France. Totally disappointed, we headed off to that standard-bearer of monuments - the Lincoln Memorial. Inspired and uplifted by this neoclassical classic, we headed back to the car by way of the Vietnam Memorial, which, like the HMM, connects the visitor with the individuals who experienced the conflict, making the memorial that much more moving.
We were to meet our friends Jar and Cara for dinner at Marvin, a new restaurant in their neighborhood, so we made our way over there. The streets in D.C. are numbered and lettered, but occasionally the grid is interrupted by monuments, universities and parks. After finding our way to Shaw from the Tidal Basin, without the help of a local map, we figured that we were ready to send in that application to be contestants on The Amazing Race. We had great fun catching up with Jar and Cara over fried chicken and waffles at Marvin, and over eggnog back at their place. On the way back to our bed at Eryn and Graham's place in Foxhall Village, we managed to wind up in Virginia - and decided to hold off on sending in that Amazing Race application.
After lunch, we headed over to the Holocaust Memorial Museum. The exhibits begin on the fourth floor, so we made our way over to the elevators, where we each received an identification card assigning each of us the identity of one of the European Jews, gypsies, Czechs, Poles, Soviet prisoners of war, communists, political dissidents, homosexuals, Freemasons, or Jehovah's Witnesses who lived during the holocaust. Although the museum was clearly uncrowded, the docent insisted that we and two other adults crowd into an elevator along with a giggling pack of high school students. The crowding seemed unnecessary, until the doors opened and we realized that the gray, steel-clad elevator was designed to look like a gas chamber and that the crowding was intentional, as it was meant to recreate the experience of entering a gas chamber. As the doors closed, the students fell silent. Over the next two hours, as we moved through the museum and mingled with the students, we noticed that they never regained their jocularity.
The HMM puts the museum visitor right inside the experience, rather than allowing him or her to stand at some remove and simply view exhibits. At one point the path through the exhibits winds through a boxcar once used to transport European Jews to ghettos and concentration camps. At another it passes under the sign "arbeit macht frei," which once hung over the gates of Auschwitz. At yet another, the visitor finds himself or herself standing inside a portion of a bunkhouse from the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp. The whole experience is profoundly personal.
At 4pm we had to move our car, so it was off to the Tidal Basin to check out the FDR Monument.
Continuing the mid-century theme, we trekked over to the World War II Monument, which looks like something that would have been erected in Vichy France. Totally disappointed, we headed off to that standard-bearer of monuments - the Lincoln Memorial. Inspired and uplifted by this neoclassical classic, we headed back to the car by way of the Vietnam Memorial, which, like the HMM, connects the visitor with the individuals who experienced the conflict, making the memorial that much more moving.
We were to meet our friends Jar and Cara for dinner at Marvin, a new restaurant in their neighborhood, so we made our way over there. The streets in D.C. are numbered and lettered, but occasionally the grid is interrupted by monuments, universities and parks. After finding our way to Shaw from the Tidal Basin, without the help of a local map, we figured that we were ready to send in that application to be contestants on The Amazing Race. We had great fun catching up with Jar and Cara over fried chicken and waffles at Marvin, and over eggnog back at their place. On the way back to our bed at Eryn and Graham's place in Foxhall Village, we managed to wind up in Virginia - and decided to hold off on sending in that Amazing Race application.
Monday, December 03, 2007
December 2, 2007 - Washington, D.C.
Eryn and Graham are fantastic tour guides. After treating us to a tasty waffle breakfast, we headed out on a tour of their neighborhood, that lead to an urban hike along the C&O Canal tow path to Foggy Bottom. From there we hopped on a Metro to Eastern Market, arriving just as the rain did. From there we walked past the Library of Congress and onto the Mall. We visited the Botanical Gardens, then moved onto the Native American Museum in time for a late lunch at the cafeteria. It is the first time that we've had wild rice or buffalo chili at a museum cafe. From there we moved onto the Air and Space Museum, where many things had changed since either of us last visited the museum (sometime in the 80's). There are now decommissioned nuclear weapons on display. We were both really interested in the exhibits that showcased GPS and Iridium satellite communication technology, which are both near and dear to our hearts. After a rousing game of Blokus back at their house, during which Eryn made good on the earlier signs of her skill at the game, we headed to Comet for pizza and ping pong.
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