Barcelona Observations

While I continue to work on the detailed stories of our trip to Barcelona (a long time coming, but I shall persevere!!), I thought I would share some observations that I jotted down throughout the trip in my ultra-trendy faux-moleskin notebook that I carried along to document things while sitting on planes, trains, and automobiles. Here we go, bullet-point style:

•  On our second day in Spain, we hit up some stores to replenish our clothing supplies due to the lost luggage incident. One of the things I noticed pretty quickly is that the Spanish are much more laid back and informal than the people in Peru are. Everywhere we went, we were greeted with "hola!", which I only hear in casual settings in Peru. I think the very prevalent Peruvian service industry is trained to be more formal and offer up a "buenos dias!" when greeting you. I don't think we got a "buenos dias" once during our trip. Using "hola" seems to make the human interaction more personal.
• On our first night in town, we hit up the Born neighborhood for a late dinner and we immediately noticed that we seriously under-dressed. Shorts and t-shirts were definitely inappropriate, but what was I really thinking? I guess I wouldn't go out in a hip-part of Manhattan at night for dinner in shorts and a tee, but in Spain they did it up nice with slacks, nice shirts, and a lot of white. It was a reminder that in urban environments, you must dress to impress - even if you're married ;o) .
• Speaking of dinner that night, I quickly realized that people eat late! We went out at about 11:00pm and every place that we walked by was so crowded that we couldn't even walk in in our shabby clothing. Then again, it was a Friday night, so I suppose that might of had something to do with that fact. But I guess Spain has a reputation for late dinners and drinks anyway due to the sweltering heat during the day. Maybe that's more relevant in southern Spain than in Catalonia, though. It was almost contradictory, however, that the subway stopped running at sometime around midnight. 
• Wine is very cheap in Barcelona! In fact, I found most things priced very reasonably regardless of what we were buying. Maybe after spending so much time in New York I've gotten used to overspending when it comes to drinks and food. I think that might actually be true too, now that I think about my time in Germany as well, where the beers were very cheap relative to what we pay here. But, anyway, the wine was pretty good to my non-developed palate and at 3€ a glass, you really couldn't go wrong. Likewise, the tapas were great in Barcelona and could be surprisingly cheap, depending on where you go. It's like a buffet - all you can eat, you just pay per item. One of our favorite spots was around 1.50€ per tapa, which was quite a deal when you consider that you fill up after about six of them.
• Barcelona was surprisingly cosmopolitan. There was a strong contingent of Africans there (mostly selling fake designer purses and watches, shockingly ;o) as well as some elements of South Americans. Erika said there were quite a few Bolivians there, although we didn't really come across many South Americans. Catalonia is known for having a robust economy, which I guess would draw people from around the world to move there. Erika and I certainly felt the pull!
• The style for the younger generation is similar to what I envision Argentines being like - shaggy and hippy-like. Beards, overgrown and unkempt hair, and hemp necklaces and bracelets were the norm among the hipper crowd - and they were everywhere that we went. 
• It's so ironic that local produce is so trendy in the United States when the plethora of markets in Barcelona (and the rest of Europe, and the rest of the world?) would find it ludicrous to sell anything but local, seasonal produce. In New York, we think that it's great that we have access to wonderful green markets and Whole Foods. But in reality, it's really difficult for us to live that kind of lifestyle with companies like Walmart going "local" and putting those "local" farmers under intense price pressure!
• The subway trains in Barcelona, which were surprisingly clean (again, maybe I'm jaded by New York's), actually wait for you! We were about halfway down a long staircase trying to catch a train, when it closed its doors. We slowed down and waited for it to pull away when all of the sudden the train reopened it's doors and waited a good five seconds longer for us to run and jump in. Five seconds! How outrageous!
• I had heard that sometimes people from Spain had a superiority complex when it came to Latin Americans and I was interested to see how they would treat Erika with her Castellano Spanish accent. The reality was that they didn't even react to her accent and, in the odd circumstance that they used a different word in Spanish than she knew (such as at our local market when talking to the deli meat specialist), they would laugh and joke together about the different words and would take interest in her words. 
• The shoes. Ohhhh, the shoes. One thing I really regret is not taking advantage of the reasonable prices in Barcelona and buying some hot Euro-shoes. They really had a nice urban flair to them and were totally unique compared to what I have here in the states. But, with my shoe rack already overloaded, I couldn't justify spending the $80 on them. Oh well, next time!

J. Riley, just a taste of what's to come!

España and Deutschland: Churches

By the second day in Barcelona, we had the whole luggage escapade our of our system and we were ready to start checking off the boxes on our itinerary of amazing things to see in Barcelona. But where should we start? After doing some quick reading in our tour book, we decided to ponder it further over some variant of ham between two slices of bread at the Barceloneta mercado. Erika had had a coffee con leche with her breakfast the day prior and, although I am not a coffee guy, I decided that one was in order for the first day to really get me going. This was a sign of things to come and let to an incredible addiction that I am still fighting in my heart and mind to this day. Being a coffee culture, I got used to drinking some good stuff, which has set me up for disappointment whenever I indulge on the weekends in midtown.

But I digress. We decided that our first order of business was to check out the insatiable, incredible, one-of-a-kind Sagrada Familia, designed by Gaudi in the early 20th century. He died without seeing it completed, and I will also likely die before it's completed because it's still very much a work-in-progress. Now that I think about it, I find it ironic that we Americans use the term "goddie" (spelled phonetically) with a negative connotation to describe a material thing that is over the top, embellished with thick, ornate, outlandish decorations (much like my definition of the word itself :o). Perhaps this term came from "Gotti" (as in the head of our local mafia family), but more likely it came from Gaudi, who's designs were in fact ornate, outlandish, and over-the-top. Which is what makes this place so controversial, I suppose. Some guidebooks describe his designs as "cake in the rain", which I found pretty accurate.

According to the length of the line and our Rick Steves Snapshot guide of Barcelona (highly recommended, by the way), we arrived right at the worst time, with a line snaking around the corner for the entrance. But, not for the first time, we found the line to be quick moving and in a few minutes we were standing in front of this impressive building in all of its glory. It was almost overwhelming just standing there, so, armed with our audio guides, we took a seat at the base of one of the columns near the entrance (conveniently in the shade since it was toasty) and just took it all in for a few minutes.

It's basically impossible to describe this place. Where's a Graham when you need him? The columns inside the church were unsymmetrical trees of concrete (literally, trees) and the exterior was just breathtaking. I could say that he incorporated nature in his design with spires built like honeycombs and native plants and animals from the Holy-land throughout the exterior, and you would probably cross it off your list of things to see in your lifetime, but that would be a mistake! I literally cannot describe the place, you just have to see it to believe it.

Following a few hours of drinking from the cup of Gaudi at the Sagrada Familie, it was time to see the next church. Euros, they always complain about how Americans love churches and how boring they find them, which I can totally understand. But when we picked up Leif at the Plaça de Catalunya, he was actually excited to see the next church on the list. After mentally mapping out our plan for the rest of the afternoon, we decided that the best thing to do would be to purchase day-passes. Of course, we'd already used our $0.70 metro card ticket twice that day, but surely we would ride it at least six more times that day. I mean, how long can you really stay at a church (especially after just finishing up with the Sagrada Familia)?    

So, we headed off to the next place of worship, which was a bit on the outskirts of Barcelona and a further ten minute walk from there before it appeared before us. This is a place where legends are created and nurtured from a young age until they are released against inferior opposition as teenagers. One of the largest of its kind in all of Europe (nearly 100,000 people can praise the Hand of God on an afternoon), a place where nationality was celebrated and defiance against fascism was practiced on a weekly basis for nearly a half-century, the Camp Nou: The house of FC Barcelona, the best football team in the world. I feel lucky to have been able to visit this place now while they are nearly at the peak of their ability. Where a boy (Leo Messi) who will likely be called the best football player of all time is plying his trade at the tender age of 23.

I haven't been to many football stadiums in Europe, but if I was to pick one to visit (other than Liverpool's Anfield, of course), it would have to be the Nou Camp. While it would be much more exciting to actually go there while the season was in full swing and experience the noise of 97,000 patrons, this would have to do for the time being. FC Barcelona is actually an important cultural icon for the nation of Catalonia. When the fascist Franco plunged the country into civil war and struck down Barcelona and the Catalans, FC Barcelona was one of the last places of refuge for the citizens. Franco outlawed the flag of Catalonia, but the flag was incorporated in the club's emblem, so it really was, and is, a way for them to display some pride in their nationality. Little did I know that the club's slogan "FC Barcelona, More Than Just A Club" is not just some marketing moniker that Nike came up with after all.

We toured the stadium and locker room (as exciting as a locker room can be I guess), we got pictures holding a mock Champions League trophy, we held a press conference in their media room, I got my photo taken with Messi himself, which was amazing since he was actually in South Africa at the same time!), and generally payed homage to all of the greats that have graced the colors of FC Barcelona.

After a few hours at the church, it was basically time to meet up with Leif's girlfriend Melanie (who, conveniently, was in town for a girl's weekend) and head out to the Olympic Port for a seafood dinner. This area, which felt like it was at least a five mile walk from the subway) was basically built for the '92 Olympics and was at the end of the incredible Barcelona beach (which, by the way, we never got to enjoy thanks to the weather and the luggage incident).

So we wandered along the beach, along the snack shacks, clubs, and all sorts of interesting things going on until we got to the pier that held giant outdoor restaurants stacked full of fresh seafood and greasy, over-sunned menu hawkers. I have no doubt that these guys are definitely the Jersey Guidos of Europe (minus The Situation's abs) judging by the way they haggled and got a little too cozy to girls walking by.

We were pretty tired by this time and so we settled into a nice paella plate after dining on appetizers. The ironic thing about it was that we had just walked for over an hour to this place way out of the way based on one of the German's book's recommendation when we learned that none of the Germans, in fact, liked seafood :o). Suddenly, Erika and I become the "experts" on recommending which fish they should eat when they don't like any fish at all. Leif made things easy by ordering a steak, while I hastily described what a monkfish looks like when Melanie asked me what I thought about that for dinner. I recommended the cod, which they found relatively palatable. :o)

It was one of our longer, dryer days (and hot!), but we enjoyed the Germans company for the night. Next time, we'll take them for awesome tapas instead of seafood :o). We took the brisk subway home and crashed pretty hard after wandering around our little village neighborhood's narrow streets a little bit more.

J. Riley, we used our day passes exactly twice, which means we wasted about $15 on the day pass :o|

España and Deutschland: First Day in Barcelona

Friday morning, and Barcelona awaits us. I spent the last month studying the city and all of it's sites, but somehow it doesn't feel like we are on vacation. After all, we had no luggage. No clean clothing, no appropriate shoes for exploring, and no desire to get the day going. We hung out at the apartment hitting F5 on the laptop keyboard, hoping that British Airways would miraculously change the status from "We have no idea where your luggage is" (I paraphrase) to "Hey, your luggage arrived as expected at 10:00am, our first flight into Barcelona".

By 10:30, I was fed up and it was time that we start making the airlines pay and at least get enough clothing to last us a day or two. It is very frustrating not knowing when your luggage is going to come, or even if it is going to come, because I didn't want to waste money if I didn't need to, but I just wasn't feeling confident that they had their act together. But Erika was clearly in more dire straits because I at least had some underwear and a shirt that didn't stink too much, but Erika had shoes giving her blisters and no clean clothes. Luckily, we lived spitting distance from a modern shopping center, which I was hoping that we wouldn't need to explore, but it became inevitable.   

We did pretty well, actually. They had an H&M in the shopping center and I was able to get a shirt while Erika found some nice shirts, shorts, under-roos, sandals, and a nice lightweight scarf to get her accessory fix. Prior to going to the shopping center, I was sweating the "Euro tax" thanks to the negative exchange rate, but Barcelona was surprisingly...reasonable! I was expecting to pay one euro for every dollar that an item cost (i.e. a $15 shirt would cost 15 Euros, or about $20). But we found that the prices were more along the lines of costs in the U.S. Maybe a benefit of visiting a country in a major recession?

With the shopping out of the way, we hightailed it back to our apartment to drop the stuff off and change because we had a date with life, and a date with Leif! My German friend is a pilot and had managed to get scheduled to fly out of and into Barcelona for the next three days, which meant he could hang out with us and see the city in the afternoons. But first, the luggage. Of course as soon as we got back from shopping, the airlines said that our luggage had arrived that morning! A few quick phone calls later, and they said that they would deliver the luggage sometime after 6:00pm. That sucked that it would be a while before we got it, but as long as it was coming we were happy.

After getting marvelously lost on the way to our meetup spot in Plaça de Catalunya, we finally met up with Leif for the first time in five years, and Erika finally got to meet one of the Germans that I talk about incessantly. She got her first taste of the Euros with Roland's visit in November, so of course she was looking forward to meeting Leif Knappy.

So, we're hanging out and talking, but what should we do? All of the guidebooks focus their energy on the epicenter of tourism, La Rambla. La Rambla is a long, sweeping pedestrian street that travels from the Plaça de Catalunya all the way to the ocean. It's just the kind of place that I despise, but I figured we had to at least see what all the hooplah was about. As the impromptu tour guide, I explained that La Rambla came from the Arabic word for "stream", which it was back in the days that the Moors owned Barcelona. Of course, as the city grew, the "stream" turned into a sewage system and I guess they got tired of the smell and paved it over. Now, it's a place for street performers, bird salesmen (???), tourist giftshops, and pickpockets. As you travel down along the neighborhood of the Raval on the right-hand side, you come across prostitutes and other questionable characters, which is interesting since this is tourist centro. 


So, we cruised down La Rambla and headed for another prime tourist location, La Boqueria, which is the biggest, baddest, and most awesome market in Barcelona. This place was massive, full of colorful fruits, vegetables, ham, drinking holes, and little tapas bars and restaurants. I was looking forward to checking out the other markets, but I was very very impressed with La Boqueria. After smelling all of the wonderful products, we had to sample some, so we picked up a table at one of the tapas bars and gave the local malted beverages a try and snacked on anchovies (or sardines?), croquettes, ham, and a few other interesting small plates of food. They were good, but a little greasy to be honest. Of course there would be more tapas and better tapas later in the trip, but this was a nice way to ease into the local cuisine.


Sitting in the blazing sun while snacking and drinking, I realized that I had no sunscreen on, which would be definitely be a problem. I usually slather myself with sunscreen, but seeing as how it was in my luggage and my luggage was coming that night, I was determined to work on my skin cancer rather than pay a few bucks for sunscreen that I didn't even need. That's logical, right? Despite the fact that I would demand to be reimbursed for it from the airline (along with the rest of the stuff we bought that day)? Okay, maybe it wasn't such a cerebral idea, but I actually wanted to see if my epidermis was truly dead and dusted and would refuse to get any color. The result? No color (which is better than red)!!

After exploring La Rambla, admiring and trying to figure out how the hell the levitating men floated in the freaking air, and going up and down La Rambla searching in vain for Palau Guell (one of Gaudi's first designs) and some famous theaters, it was time to head down to the waterfront and relax on our way back to meetup with our beloved baggage. We hung out on some steps leading down to the smelly, polluted water (or maybe it was the cruise line exhaust we were smelling?), and eventually started heading back to Barceloneta and bid adieu to Leif until the next day.

Back in our apartment, it was time to figure out what was going on with our luggage. Lucky for us, our "roommate" was a pretty awesome guy and let us use his phone so that we could make all the phone calls that we needed to in Barcelona to get the information we needed. We had dinner plans that night with one of Erika's friends and, sure enough, the airline decided that that was a perfect target for the delivery time. So our luggage arrived at 10:00am, but they wouldn't deliver it to us until between 8:00 and 11:00pm. Although it was going to cause problems in our schedule, getting our luggage was priority number one, so we cancelled our plans and begrudgingly rescheduled for later in the weekend. It almost worked out better this way, because we had some pig shopping to do.

One of the things that Spain is famous for is their legs o'ham. Much like Italy has their prosciutto, Spain has their Jamon Serrano. I've head a lot about this, and had black pigs jumping over fences and landing between two pieces of buttered bread in my dreams at night. It was definitely on my agenda to eat at least four portions of fatty jamon for each meal, so we embarked on a trip to our local mercado to go pick some up.

Usually, when I visit a city, I try to find out the local customs and visit some more authentic areas (isn't that the dream of every traveler, though?). Typically, it doesn't happen, but we lucked on this trip because our apartment was situated in just such a place. Overlooking Passeig de Joan Borbo and it's constant flow of tourists and locals flocking to the beach, who would believe that just one block deeper into Barceloneta was a  feeding ground for local residents. The mercado, just a few three or four minutes away by walking, was my destination of fairy tales because it was a meeting place of families of the area and inside they had a lovely little market with several jamon stands. We ended up picking one to stick to and it became our ritual to visit this place on a daily basis to pick up a variety of ham to eat for breakfast, snack on, or make sandwiches with. Our meat cutter (scientific term ;o) told Erika all about the different varieties he had such as regular serrano vs. serranita vs. black pigs that were fed only chestnuts, etc. He let us sample the different types and was in no rush to get us out despite the fact that the place was closing down by this point. This: is the life! We matched the jamon up with some cheeses that he had and went across the street to Barceloneta's top bakery where for a small pence, we were able to get some delicious fresh bread that would be our breakfast the next day.

Back at the homestead, we waited for our luggage some more. Finally, at 9:00pm, Ricardo got the call that our stuff had arrived and we rushed downstairs to embrace my handicapped  bag (it desperately needs some new wheels!)!! It was such a relief to finally be able to change into something cool and fresh after two days of offending the people around us ;o).

After our things arrived, we decided to head out to get some sangria and maybe a bite to eat in the immediate area, but Ricardo recommended that we head of to the Born neighborhood, which was the next neighborhood over. We were met with more narrow streets, dark alleyways, and throngs of sharply-dressed people in this burgeoning and fashionable neighborhood. We felt totally out of place with my sandals and baggy shorts when everyone was dressed to the nines, but we wandered around in search of anything that was not jammed pack with people and that had some outdoor seating for us to enjoy in the comfortable weather. The tapa bars in this area were amazing full and it brought a great energy to the area.

At the same time, I felt like the neighborhood had a dark side to it. There were some really dark streets that we walked down and some shady characters that seemed to be around us all the time. After being warned repeatedly about the pickpockets, it really unnerved me when people would walk like two feet behind me. Luckily, I was with Erika (haha!) who had no problem in these situations, which was why she was the one in charge of carrying the cash and any valuables :o).

In any case, we eventually stumbled upon a culdesac that had several restaurants and we settled on pizzas and fresh sangria at Pizza Paco. This area was really hopping and it just felt great to finally be carefree, relax, and enjoy the sites and smells of Barcelona :o)

J. Riley, it was a long first day!

España and Deutschland: Arrival in Barcelona

After a colorful day in London, my feet were aching as a result of the overbearing backpack that for some reason I had packed to the maximum. On our flight to Hamburg the next week, we were going to be limited to 15kg for each bag, so the weigh-in at the airport in New York was useful for figuring out how much we were packing, so I had stuffed a couple items of clothing in my backpack both as a precaution for lost luggage and also to put my luggage on the South Beach Diet and lose a few kilos.

Arriving in Barcelona, we were pretty tired and looking forward to checking into our apartment that we reserved over at airbnb.com. There were some interesting characters on our plane ride, including a group that was going to Barcelona for what must have been a boys weekend in Spain and were getting all tipsy on the plane. We watched them as we waited for our luggage. As the wait grew, I was looking around and trying to find out where the trains to the city were, as we could save like $4 by taking them instead of the ultra-convenient Aerobus that goes directly to the town. And the wait kept growing, until eventually the baggage claim just stopped and we were standing there with another couple with neither of our bags. Not exactly part of the itinerary, low-cost carrier who advertised itself as British Airways.

We filed our claim and were despondent to learn that not only could they not tell us when the luggage would arrive (the next flight was the next day), but they couldn't even tell us where our luggage was last scanned and they didn't know where it was located, even if had even arrived in London or not. We filed our claim and took the Aerobus to the center of town in shock, the idea of not having clean clothing (save what was in my backpack) or shoes to replace Erika's damaged heels (that had given her blisters that she almost couldn't walk with) the next day after spending the whole day in London had not really sunk in yet.

We finally arrived in Plaça de Catalunya, meandered over to our subway and took it two stops to the Barceloneta station, where we found seafood restaurant after restaurant lining the main street that led down to the beach. Not in the mood to deal with the menu-totting restaurant hagglers, we bee-lined for the street where our apartment would await us. But we weren't exactly sure where that was. We stopped to buy an overpriced toothbrush and toothpaste at one of the only stores open at the hour (probably 10:30pm) and got directions to the street we were looking for. 


When we turned off the main avenue on the street where the apartment was and walked 10 meters, we found ourselves in a dimly lit neighborhood with narrow, dark streets and  sinister-looking characters lurking about. And we couldn't find the building where our apartment was! I didn't really feel like hanging out in the area, and luckily we realized that the directions we were given were off by one street and we found the building one block down. I never would have thought that I would come to love the neighborhood after that first step into Barceloneta! 


Anyway, we found the building and pressed the buzzer, but the buzzer made no sound and nobody responded. We tried it a few more times, double-checked the address, and I finally gave in and whipped out my Verizon phone that the week before had been impregnated with a GSM chip - my first experience in actually utilizing my World Phone :o). It cost $2.00 a minute to use, but it was well worth it when Ricardo answered and came down to pick us up. Apparently sometimes the electricity goes out in the stairwells and the buzzer - gotta love rustic Barcelona!


We finally were in our apartment and it was everything we had hoped it would be. Ricardo was great and showed us where everything was and our first view over the Barcelona marina filled with sailboats and yachts  with the old city center raising it's historical head in the background and we were enamored with the city. But not enamored with British Airlines, which would be our first of few conflicts in the old-country.   


J. Riley, to boot, Ricardo took pity on us and graciously made a pesto-seafood pasta dinner for the three of us to enjoy together.  

España and Deutschland: But First, London

I've been to a few places in this world, but, shockingly, I've never been to England, the birthplace of football. It just so happened that American Airlines couldn't send us straight through to BCN International Airport, we had to spend a few hours in London. Like, eight hours. I've been to Heathrow before and know the kind of damage that can be done to a credit card with a limit there in eight hours, especially considering the British Pound currency rate and the unpublished airport tax - "Duty-Free" my ass, the prices are like 25% above market value!

So, we did our research and tried to find out what a Peruvian citizen without a British visa can get away with in London for eight hours. Like most government websites, it was confusing and although it said that Erika could transfer to another airline without a visa, it was up to the passport control agents whether or not they would give you a 24-hour temporary visa when you got there. Bleary-eyed and sleep deprived after a six-hour red-eye and loaded down with a sixty-pound backpack (or, so it felt), we arrived and hopped in the Non-EU line and started checking out the passport control agents and their demeanor. I've clearly become jaded by the famous New York "hospitality" and maintained a pessimistic outlook on our chances, but I cheered up immediately when we got in line with a chipper, smiling agent. Boarding passes in hand, Erika and I started to make our case for letting her pass due to our layover and connecting flights, green card, etc., but before we could even present our closing statement/remarks, she had stamped Erika's passport with a temporary visa and explained the best way to get to the train station. Erika and I both laughed as she was the one that we both wanted to check our passports, and it turned out perfect!

We found ourselves a Metro map and looked over it. I had no idea what there was to do in London and I justed wanted to wander around somewhere since we didn't have enough time to do a stadium tour ;o). I knew of a Tralfagar Square that would be teeming with tourists on a Friday, but Erika recommended we go see a castle or something. So we bought some subway tickets out to the area around Buckingham Palace. Ouch, I quickly realized that this little day trip to London was going to hurt my wallet when I paid eight bucks just for one subway ticket into town. Oh well, I'd probably be better off in town than shopping "Duty-Free" and English-styled clothes (I still desire you, Euro fashions!!).  

So after some clarifications on how to buy tickets, we were on our way down to "the tube", as they refer to the subway I believe. Walking inside the station, I was astonished at seeing a piece of trash down on the tracks. "A" piece of trash. In New York, you can't even see the tracks, it is so full of trash and mysterious standing rat bathing water. Based on its reputation for being formal, orderly, proper, and clean, I kind of expected it. After all, this was the country that was in uproar when a Prime Minister candidate forget his microphone was on and called an old lady who had presented a question at a town hall meeting a "bigot". Uproar! Scandal! Oh, the humanity of it all! 

We got off at Knightsbridge Station, somewhere and London and got out to walk around and attempt to waste time, find Buckingham Palace, and eat some lunch. I was shocked when I needed to actually use sunglasses in London and found it to be a bright, warm, and very sunny day. I had everything valuable in my backpack save for sunscreen - minor error on my part. I did find a sample of sunscreen given to us by a dermatologist somewhere in the dark depths of a crevice in my bag, though, and that probably helped me postpone my journey towards skin cancer by a day at least. 

We started wandering down the beautiful British boulevard and found Harrod's, which is supposedly one of the biggest department stores in the world - maybe after Macy's in NYC. It was a beautiful building that we took some pictures of but, of course in the interest of time (or so I told Erika), we should just keep walking and not go inside. Damage averted! We wandered around some pretty streets and noted that physically, this was the place where I probably fit in the most. Most people assume that I've got some German in my blood with the whole Aryan look and height, but I actually found myself more like the English than anyone. They're fairly tall, skinny, and tow-headed as well and I think I fit in pretty well there. 

What was funny was that although I physically fit in well, people had a hard time understanding me. They actually understood Erika better than me I think. Then again, when I listen to my voicemail message before I leave work, I hardly understand myself, so I can understand their pain in hearing me talk. But it was a unique and sort of funny experience being in Europe and speaking my native tongue without feeling guilty.

Eventually, we got lost, which was sort of my plan although I had thought I would just come across Buckingham Palace at some point. But using my subway map as my city guide, I soon realized that London is huge! We had gone in the complete wrong direction, so we decided that we'd need to ask for directions. We asked a lady who was walking about some directions and discovered, again, the the Brits are so. damn. FRIENDLY! She walked us to a bus station (out of her way), explained to us which bus to take, when to get off, how much to pay, etc. I was going to ask for a foot massage, but decided against it at the last minute. 

When our double-decker bus came rolling up, we had enough change to pay the bus driver for one person but only had a large bill otherwise. I found it interesting that you actually pay the bus driver himself and he makes change and all that. In New York, you're asking for problems if you even look at the bus drivers. Of course, packing a £20 bill, he couldn't make change so I wasn't sure what was going to happen. He took out this pad of paper and wrote something on it and gave it to me. I didn't know what to do with it or what it was, but he looked finished with me so we wandered up to the second-deck of the double-decker (of course). I looked at the note he gave me and it was basically an IOU form! It had the fare amount and gave me a phone number to call to pay for my fare with a credit card or told me to pay at a subway station sometime in the next five days. WHAT??? Are you kidding? You get an IOU and people actually PAY? This system WORKS? Having just come from New York, of course we laughed  about it and never paid it off :o/ . I feel slightly guilty about it now, but I'm sure I'll recover someday and pay my £2.

Eventually, we found some signs directing us to our main destination: Buckingham Palace. It was neat, but....rather underwhelming, to be honest. Isn't this where the Queen lives and stuff? It wasn't especially big or fancy. The gates had some cool gold designs and of course the guards look cool with their big fuzzy hats, but otherwise it was a bit of a letdown. There was a nice statue in the center circle across from the palace and there were a lot of flags, long, straight boulevards undoubtedly going to some other important places, but other than the statue, the PARK looked most interesting. We walked along the edge of it (Hyde Park, maybe?) on our way back towards to the subway station and I wanted to go sunbathe, relax, and take off this damn backpack that is killing my body, but we just didn't have the time. Next time!

On our way to the subway and lunch, we discovered that if we had turned right instead of left when we came out of the subway, we would have been at Buckingham Palace in like five minutes rather than two and a half hours. Oh well, at least we got to see some London! For lunch, we were treated with typical Euro patience (despite the fact that we were kind of in a hurry) and had a decent meal and bubbly water for a decent price, using up the rest of our £20. Interestingly, when we paid the bill at the table, nobody even came by to collect it or to see if we had paid it in full or anything. Wow, by the end of the day, I kind of enjoyed and could get used to this whole "trust" thing that was going on there. It was a sign of great things to come!

We headed back to the airport with a little bit of time to spare before our flight to Spain. We walked around some of the stores, checking out some of the completely stylish and completely unreasonably priced clothing that was everywhere as well as me gawking at the Liverpool memorabilia and the footballers' autobiographies in the book store. :o)

J. Riley, London was cool, but we were pumped up for Barcelona!


Pictures!

España and Deutschland: A Prologue

It was around 5:30am when I woke up, sweating and feeling disoriented. I sat up in bed and thought to myself, Where am I? I'm definitely not on stiff, uncomfortable seats at midnight on my way over the Atlantic with a microwaved chicken "dinner" slowly digesting in my stomach, or on my way to Barcelona with sore feet and a over-utilized shoulders, or on my way to Germany with a mind full of memories, anticipation, and the delight that my vacation wasn't over. I wasn't in Barcelona, sleeping in a stranger's apartment with the loud street noise and the wonderful sights visible from the bed at all hours. I definitely wasn't in Hamburg, with it's complete silence from 12:00am until 12:00am the next morning. Ahh, am I in the rural region of the Sauerland in Germany, the land first explored as a teenager where I tasted my first beer and visited every few years thereafter? No, looking around in the first rays of dusk light, I recognized the bathroom and mentally traced the path to the kitchen, the futon, and the large windows with views of tall buildings. I am in New York. I am home. 

Home is Where the Heart Is, the old adage says. The night before, home was where I begrudgingly lay down my head and woke up the next morning. By the adage was true: my heart was far away, in a land across the great pond where I experienced an amazing trip that I just wasn't willing to let go of. Not just yet. But, as always, the trip slipped further and further away and life returned to its recognizable pattern with friends, new experiences, and routines. 

People asked me the expected question when I returned home: How was your trip? I haven't thought of a short version of an answer, and the long answer will take a few hours or days to tell. I think people that have experienced these kinds of trips before know the answer without me having to explain in great detail the trip. Of course, vacations can be disasters, but I don't think I've experienced one of those yet. They are all special in their  own way, and this one was no different. 

J. Riley, pictures are up.

Meet The Cuevas

Unlike Meet the Parents/Fockers, the sequel of Meet the Cuevas in San Marcos, Cajamarca, Peru was actually better than the first one that was released about a year and a half ago. It was certainly different than the first trip, especially considering the fact that I was picked up by Erika's dad and spent the first night at Erika's aunt's house without her around. And of course, no one speaks English so it was certainly a big challenge for me to communicate. But the challenge was met and I was dominate with my Spanglish, dropping some jokes and getting some laughs out of everyone. It was challenging, but I proved again that when Erika isn't around to translate, I can drop it like it's hot!

Among some new bad words, one thing that I did learn or was reminded of was the fact that Inca Kola, a staple of every meal in Peru, contains caffeine. To demonstrate my reaction to caffeine, on the rare days that I am sleep walking to work and cannot wake up, I put literally 1.45 inches of coffee in a cup and I'm wired for hours. So drinking ample amounts of Inca Kola at about 11:00pm and *not* following it up with equal parts of beer or liquor of some kind (which I was actually hoping for), means only one thing: insomnia. The Inca Kola, plus stressing about waking up late for our 5:00am flight, plus airplanes flying about 50 feet over the house as they come in to land (*much* louder than I remember at our house when the military planes would be pulling into Moffet), plus the usual orchestra of animals at night leads me and a rock-hard, 25" high pillow that was putting my spinal chord at risk of snapping led to zero sleep at night. Zero! That's the way to start a trip after flying all day and having a full half day more of travelling ahead of me!

So, with the trip off to a bad start, I headed to the airport the next morning with Pancrita (her dad's nickname that nobody can explain the meaning of), and had a pretty uneventful flight to Cajamarca. We took the taxi to the bus depot (garage) and were met there by Erika and her Mom, who woke up at 3:00am to take the bus to Cajamarca and meet us. Now that's some dedication! I was a walking zombie however and was just looking forward to getting on the bus and passing out. However, these buses are built for the little Peruvians, not strapping white-folk like me. Thing of those 1980s Toyota minivans (narrow, tall), expand the size by 50%, add about 35 seats, and you've got the Peruvian Combi. The seats are not plus leather, but basically springs covered by vinyl and 10" of leg room. Somehow, the Peruvians are soldiers and have no problem with these things, and in my past life I would relish the authenticity of such means of travel. But, I'm getting old and not having any leg room isn't cool, so I told Erika this is the *last* time I'm taking a Combi on a this two hour road-trip to San Marcos.

Well, once I made it to San Marcos, I was golden, and the few days I spent there were splendid and I was spoiled to life's full-extent. Does Justin want some breakfast? Yes please. Does Justin want some Ecco to drink? Yes please. Does Justin want to drink some beer with the men of the house, sharing a pixie cup? Yes please. Does Justin want some spicy, fried testicles from the sheep that was just butchered out back? Why not. Does Justin want to eat some Cuy (Guinea Pig)? Ummm, okay it's already spread-eagle and beheaded on my plate, so I guess so. Does Justin want some home-brewed 50-proof moonshine that can take paint off walls and that's sold in reused Sprite bottles or some chicha (a warm, frothy, full textured liquor made from fermented corn)? I think I'll stick with the beer and sheep testicles, thanks though!

Being spoiled doesn't come cheap or easy in these parts and life isn't easy, though. These people are hard-working honest folk. I was once asked, "what do they do for a living?", to which I responded, "They just live".      The women spend the day butchering the guinea pigs, free-range hens, or whatever other animal is going to be eaten, they collect peppers that are rampantly growing above the "shower", they collect herbs that are growing in between the "choclo" (Peruvian corn) stalks to spice Caldo Verde (a rich, green soup), etc. They take the animals (goats, pigs, sheeps, etc) out to mow down the brush growing everywhere on the farm. And, I had the wonderful opportunity to do some manual labor of my own along with Erika and her dad by knocking down the ripe "talla" off the tree and collecting the red pea-like-pods off the ground, which is painstaking on the back, knees, etc. The talla is collected and sold to collection agents that use the inside of the pods for making oil and red make-up.

Being Native American, I've long held the belief that I am immune to poison oak (which I have never contracted). But it doesn't start with poison oak; I am also immune to mosquitoes! People are always getting bit by mosquitoes and other small bugs and I never get bit. Despite my insistence on this FACT, Erika said I should put some repellent on because the mosquitoes were ravenous for human blood and I should put some jeans on. But it was way too hot to do manual labor in jeans, and I'm immune, right?

Soooo, it turns out I'm not immune. My upper body wasn't touched (except for some cyst-sized bites on various fingers - how the hell did they bite me without me seeing?). But my legs were dominated by the bastards. I counted 59 bites on my legs alone. Holy Jesus (Hey-Sus). I really don't think they were mosquitoes, cuz I didn't see any even touching me, but the swollen welts and gaping wounds on my legs told a different story. Maybe it was some other exotic bug that my people never built up a resistance to, unlike the Incas (especially since they didn't itch at all). All I know is that I'll be using more caladryl than soap for the next few days!

The main event for the trip was me becoming The Godfather. Our god-child Jimena, who is an adorable seven year-old with beautiful eyes (she'll be stunning some day I think) had her baptism on Saturday morning. Those of you in attendance at my wedding know how my Spanish goes in front of the priest. Well, this was even worse. I was mis-informed on what I was going to be saying to the priest, but likely I didn't have a microphone thrust down my throat, so I just nodded, mumbled, and avoided the glaring eyes of the priest as we went through the quick ceremony. Not my fault! Like I said, I was misinformed by everybody.

Unlike the short ceremony, the part was OFF. THE. HOOK. I lasted a few hours before I passed out in my room, but this party when twelve full hours and there was definitely high amounts of intoxication involved. These guys can certainly DRINK - and DANCE! I got dragged out quite a bit by my "comadre" (Jimena's mom), much to my embarrassment, but I had some fun. The family was trying to put me on a pedastool for travelling so far, but that was definitely uncomfortable and I just wanted to be treated like everyone else. I didn't need a metal fork to eat my sheep testicles. I didn't need a chair to put my plate of butterflied guinea pig on. I just wanted to blend in with everyone else, though physically that was clearly impossible!


At the end of the night, after my little napster, I re-joined the party and before I knew it it was mid-night and that means - Erika's birthday! So the party was definitely not done and in walked three really drunk mariachis - Cajamarca style, wearing the traditional Cajamarca sombreros and bellowing out mariachi songs. It was hilarious because they were so drunk and singing along with each other along with a guitar. They also lit twenty-four massive fireworks (one for each year of Erika's life ;o) that boomed outside, it was great! Everyone likes mariachis, even in Peru!

Despite my ear being attacked by a bastard of a mosquito and getting zero sleep again on the last night (true to tradition), the trip was really a good time. Unlike in Hollywood, the sequel was most definitely better than the prequel!

J. Riley, and the Combi ride on the way back to the airport? We took a taxi this time. The best $25 I spent in my life :o).

Gossip Monger

I still haven't written about DC! GASP! AWWW! AGGGHHH! Oh, the humanity. I think people will survive. Anyway, I think I really love DC - for visiting anyway. I mean, where else in the country can you get so much historical culture on every corner? A few thoughts about DC that I will mention:

1. Museums. Museums, Museums, Museums! Normally, I find them to be mildly boring, even the ones in foreign lands that detail the deep history and mindset of the people across generations. I don't know why, but I get really tired in them after about an hour or two. But NOT in DC. Seriously, I know everyone says the Smithsonians are great and they are pretty well respected, but these places are tremendous. And they are all FREE! I have never been so captivated in history and so intrigued about everything as I was in the Smithsonians. They must have a massive crew of creative directors because you can't even put in words how amazing these museums are. The Air and Space Museum was okay (with it's nuclear missals and World War I and II era facts and stories), but the Natural History Museum, the American History Museum, and, most shockingly, the Native American Museums were spellbinding. Nobody ever cares about the Native Americans except for those of us who are genetically tribal (1/16 Cherokee in the house!), so to see so much time and space dedicated to a story that nobody ever hears about was surreal. We spent almost two days there. 
2. Generally speaking, the museum grub was decent enough, though outrageously expensive as expected. But the Native American Museums cafeteria was, again, a site to be seen. They had tribal-type food from all the different regions in the United States, plus a South American area where they actually served up authentic Peruvian grub. I could have chosen something better than the Indian tacos, but if I would have gone all "yogurt-shopping" on the place, I wouldn't have gotten out of there. 
3. On the other sign of the coin were the breakfast and dinner options. Seriously lacking. Like, criminally. I actually got stuck eating at McDonalds one day because nothing was open for breakfast near our hotel, other than the hotel buffet for a cool $16 a piece. Thank God that McDonalds is actually serving oatmeal with "fresh" fruit in it. I'll take two of those, thanks. The one day that we ate at the ritzy Kay Adams hotel (where the Obamas stayed, with a view of the White House across the street) that we stayed at with Sean and Roberta was horrendous. The service was so bad and everyone kept looking at Erika and I like we didn't belong there (because we didn't!). I guess if I had been wearing triple-pleated khakis with a Brooks Brother shirt while on vacation, I would have fit right in. I hope other guests tipped their waiters well, because I sure didn't. Dinner options near our hotel were also non-existent, so we stuck with large, late lunches and called it a day. 
4. We froze our asses off in DC. It was unusually cold for us there, especially to be out walking around taking in the WWII memorial, Lincoln memorial, Capitol building, and the Vietnam memorial. I sure would like to go down there during the cherry blossom festival when things are blooming, the grass is green, and it isn't 20 degrees not taking into account the 50mph winds (no joke). I tried to keep positive, but there were times when I almost thought about just giving up on life!

 So, overall, we loved Washington DC and it was even better than what I remember it being. I'm glad I got to take Erika there to experience it and she was as excited as me to take in the sites and learn about some good old American history. It's nice to take spur-of-the-moment trips like this before...somethings happen.

Speaking of that, Erika and I recently had a little appointment at the NYU Infertility Center with Dr. Alan Berkeley. Some of you know about this Myotonic Dystrophy that I've got. The fact that it is a genetic disorder means that any offspring of mine have a 50% chance of contracting it - and it could be a lot more serious in the next generation. The only way to get rid of it is by doing something called PGD (Pre-Implantation Genetic Diagnostics), which can only be accomplished through In Vitro pregnancies. So I'm happy to say that we have started down that road which is both exciting and scary. It is a long, difficult, financially and emotionally draining process, but so are children :o)! So stay tuned to the blog about more exciting stories about this!

J. Riley, I've got more dirt, but I gotta run! 

The Seven Days of (Post) Christmas

I've had some busy trips in my lifetime, but the last seven (eight, now) days have been a whirlwind!


Last week I was down in Peru for Christmas. Christmas is done a lot different down there, with the 24th actually being the day of celebration. Or night, rather. All of the events commence at midnight, starting with watching and launching fireworks from the roof of Erika's house. She has quite a view of the city form the top of her house and just about everyone in Lima is launching fireworks, so it was a crazy light show. Most of the fireworks weren't grandiose and massive like they are on the 4th of July, but the sheer number of people launching them made is impressive.

Following fireworks, we went downstairs and opened up presents and finished up with dinner. By the time we cracked and finished the bottles of celebratory champagne and finished off the plates and plates of turkey, applesauce, Arabic rice, fruit salad, and washed it down with hot chocolate, it was 3:00am! The four bottles of champagne did their job and I passed out really quickly at night!


The next day (the 25th) was a traditional ceviche lunch and several hours of napping :o). Overall, Peru was a pretty relaxing time with just two days that we spent out - one day getting dental work done (two cavities filled and one x-ray: $70), getting hair cuts/coloring (my first "real" hair-cut that was actually styled), and another day that involved Erika getting all of her beauty salon work taken care of while I went to a movie and watched some soccer in the dining area of the mall. Luckily, the films aren't dubbed in Peru, they use subtitles so it was no problem for me!

We took our usual red-eye flight back to New York on Monday night to conclude our short six day trip. The flight was alright except for all of the stupid rules they imposed on the passengers thanks to the retarded terrorist. I don't mind having my whole body fondled and all of my luggage getting searched before getting on the plane (again). But what was stupid was that the flight was freezing and I actually had to use two blankets to keep warm while I was sleeping. And they woke me up an HOUR before we actually landed and took our blankets away! And they wouldn't let us stand up to get sweaters out of the overhead compartment or go to the bathroom. What does that accomplish? Nothing, in my opinion. Turn up the heat and keep the f-in blankets and let me sleep! Then, they turned off the in-flight entertainment forty-five minutes before we landed. I wouldn't have cared if I was SLEEPING, but they had already done their best to wake us all up. If I wanted to blow up the plane with a bomb in my boxers, I still had the six hours of the flight to do it, not just when we are landing.

After leaving our sandals, shorts, and t-shirts behind in Peru, we landed and left the airport at 8:00am and were almost knocked over as soon as we stepped outside the airport. Probably 50mph winds and 18 degrees (that would be Fahrenheit) blasted us and it was a rude-awakening for us that we were back in NYC! The only benefit that I got from this was that I was AWAKE, REALLY AWAKE by the time we got home!

But the day was not done. Later in the afternoon, Sean and Roberta were getting married, and we were going to be the witnesses! It made sense since they actually met at my birthday after we had introduced them together. So Erika and I got dressed up for the City Hall and while we were waiting for them, I was actually thinking about it. I have no idea what a city hall wedding with Sean (the guy who started his own company and dressed in very expensive suits, had a one foot beard for about a year, and who liked to spend a lot of money) and Roberta (completely altnerative life-style Italian, artist, who wears no makeup) would be like. Would they show up in a Limo, a cab, or via subway? Would they dress up for the event in expensive clothes, completely casual, or with some funky outfit? It could have been anything. It turns out that Erika and I

overdressed for the occasion and they actually wore the same casual clothing that they wore when they met each-other!

The wedding went smoothly and quickly, and now I have one-less single friend! Yay! So, let the outrageous celebrations begin! We tried to go to Balthazar, one of the great French institutions of SoHO for dinner but their list was already full for the night. Sean and I went to buy some champagne and he spent $300 on two bottles of it - yikes! With Roberta being preggers, the three of us went ahead and drank a bottle of champagner at their house since it was FREEZING outside. Not having eaten anything all day, we decided to hold off on the second bottle and went to have dinner.  Since they lived around the corner from Balthazar, they actually had a "secret" number to call and we got reservations for an hour later!

We had a fabulous dinner at Balthazar. Wow, what a meal it was. Being in a place like that makes you really feel like you're living the life, with the French wine recommender, the Northern African-French waiters at your beck-and-call, and drinking French bottles of wine from 1988. It was actually quite outrageous, but what the hell, it was Sean and Roberta's wedding and they knew had to live it up!

We had a great time together with them as we always do and the topic of New Years Eve came up. They were going to Washington DC to attend a New Years Party at one of Sean's client's house and invited us to go. The thought had crossed our minds briefly, but the money situation has been tight lately and I kind of decided we better not go, espsecially since the party's theme was "Leather and Lace" and I had neither. Then, they said we could stay at their hotel, which happened to be across the street from and with a view of the WHITE HOUSE (!!!) with them if we wanted and that H&M had leather goods for cheap and most of the museums and sites were free. At that point, it was ON!

The next day (the day before New Year's Eve), I got online and booked $42 round/trip tickets on MegaBus for Erika and I to DC. I couldn't believe that they weren't sold out, but having heard stories about some of these cheap buses, I was really nervous. MegaBus supposedly had nice buses, free in-route Wi-Fi and power supplies, so it sounded like it was worth a try. I also booked a 3.5 star hotel for $70 a night right on Hotwire.com around the corner from Sean's (since they were only staying two nights and we wanted to stay for the weekend). 

The bus ride organizing was my worst nightmare. We got to the pick-up spot and there were probably 1000 people there waiting for different routes and the word from the people there was that everything was way behind schedule and that they had oversold the tickets earlier in the day. And it was FREEZING cold outside still. So we stood around and watched as buses took people away little by little until our bus finally arrived (about an hour late). We didn't really care if we'd arrive late, we just wanted to get on that bus because it was warm and we had a nice hotel waiting for us.

Well, to make a long story short(ish), we made it on the last bus! The ride was super easy, except that being on top of the double-decker luxury liner got us kind of woozy with the rocking motion from the terrible roads and the power sources weren't working at all. I was super psyched up for the trip though and it brought back memories from my 8th-grade spring break trip with the school, the last time I went to DC. I couldn't sleep I was so pumped up (and maybe from the two sips of coffee I had while waiting for the bus) so I so I went ballastic on my little notebook (in the dark):

"My head pressed firmly
  against the artificial
  substance
I ponder, like a 12 year-old
  with his new luggage and
  a deposit in place
Things, certainly they
  have changed in 20
  years, but somehow,
  they are still the same.
1991 coaches had no power
  source that threatened the
  vitality of Google phones and
  laptops. It had ideas, excitement
  and a thirst for exploring
  the agenda presented inside of it.
I'm Prepared,
  like the agenda, but a chasm
  now exists. Backpack, loaded
  like the Christmas suitcase,
  is the key to the weekend.
The memories still exist, though
  this time there will be no
  cool crowd nor mall lunch
  specials."

J. Riley, next up: Washington DC highlights and lowlights!

Urine Luck

There are certain times in ones life when the discovery of a tool leads to inspiration of sorts. Blogging was one of those events back in 2003 or so. After opening my account and remaining dormant for months, I had a back-of-the-cab discussion with Paul, Cathy, and a friend of theirs in town about the crazy city of New York and how there needed to be a way to keep track of places that I wanted to go, events that transpired, and the life that was being lived. It was fairly successful over the years, even if the production line of posts isn't quite like it was in the past.

Recently I was out at dinner with some friends and was learning all about the book of James. It was fascinating and was something that I had yearned for throughout the years that I had been blogging. I hope that the book of James provides another moment of inspiration since I went out and bought something just like the book of James: a pocket-sized faux-leather personal journal. It's great for keeping track of my thoughts, making a note about websites that I need to check back on when I get home, and pretty much anything else that I can think of that needs to be documented.

Thus, it is Christmas Eve and I wish to provide you with a taste of my own book of James. Oh hell no, there's a poem in store for ya'll!

The First Day of (Peruvian) Christmas
    by J. Riley

You're in Luck,
   when the faux-hawk that you rock,
   stands up like a shock
   and when 230v > 110v, I nearly knocked my socks off. 

   The sirens will sounds,
   that there's a new gringa in town.
  The fish will clown
  while her tooth is getting crowned.
  This, with the girl that wore my wedding gown.  

J. Riley, Feliz Navidad! Pictures that go along with the linguistic art above will have to wait until I get back to NY...

History Lessons

When mom asked if we could take a road trip when they were going to be here visiting, I had a couple ideas come to mind. Since I haven't really taken a road trip outside of Manhattan other than up to Cooperstown, it wasn't hard to find destinations. A fishing village in New England? Some hiking that would overlook the Hudson River valley? Long Island? Scenic lakes upstate? Washington DC? Through the process of elimination and in talking to my parents, we came up with Gettysburg and Philadelphia, PA.

Those of you that know me pretty well know that I've always been a history buff, and as a child I was particularly interested in the Civil War. Then I went through a Central and Eastern Europe phase after visiting Hungary, and recently (for some reason), I've been learning more about South American history. But the peculiar thing is that other than by reading books, I have little personal experience with early American history, other than a trip to Charleston and to DC as a 13 year-old. This trip would help me catch up and also teach Erika somethings about the United States that she was interested in.

So with Google Maps (and, thankfully, a rented GPS unit named "Miss Garmin") in hand, we took off for Pennsylvania at around 6:00am on Monday morning. The plan was simple: go to the Visitor Center and figure out what there was to do when we got there. I had heard that Gettysburg had a pretty well structured tourist route and dad confirmed it at 5:30 in the morning while we were all getting ready. We made it through Manhattan without any issues and about four hours later, we arrived in scenic Gettysburg.

At the visiter center, we found out we could take a personal tour of the battlefields with certified tour guides for the reasonable price of $50 and with tickets to the museum and the amazing and massive "Cyclorama" it came out to about $25 a person, which is not bad for a day's experience. The tour guide took the wheel of our rental car and four about three hours, we saw all the major battlefields and learned all about the three-day battle that turned the course of the Civil War. It may not sound that interesting, but I think we all agreed that it was a thrilling experience and ignited my fire to read more about the history that I loved reading about as a child.

After spending the day in Gettysburg, we hit the road again and pointed Miss Garmin in the direction of our Hotwire-acquired hotel in downtown Philadelphia. We got in pretty late and wandered around trying to find some food (this city was definitely not one that never sleeps!) and eventually came across a sports-bar that served up some pretty decent food and home-brews. We had planned on taking advantage of Restaurant Week and eating high-class for low prices, but everything was closed by 10:00pm - pretty weak in my book! But we were beat anyway and had a busy Tuesday planned, so getting to bed by midnight was definitely top of the list!

On Tuesday morning, we had some Belgian waffles and then decided that we should probably figure out what there was to do in Philadelphia, since we had no idea. We found the Tourist Center on a map and soon found out that all of the tourist stuff in town was run by the National Parks Service and was, therefore, free!! We got tours of Independence Hall, pictures with the Liberty Bell, went to Benjamin Franklin's printing press, saw the Tomb of the Unknown Revolutionary War Soldier, learned about some of the original documents signed in the 1700s, and took a bus tour around town for $2. And, obviously, we ate an amazing Philly Cheesesteak to make sure that our heart's cholesterol levels were higher than they were before we went on our trip.

Philadelphia as a city is, as a matter of fact, not that bad. It's definitely a city with black or white, and no shades in between. And I'm not just talking about race! It has beautiful architecture all over town, but take the wrong exit and you're in the ghetto of all ghettos. But even the ghettos look like they just need some fixin' up and you've got an amazing Victorian house on your hands. The people in Philly were generally nice and it had a big city feel without the attitude and rush that people in New York have. Nice restaurants were planted all over town and prices were pretty reasonable.

Overall, it's hard to describe the trip, but I did learn more about American History than I have since probably High School (which isn't saying much!) and I highly recommend both places as destinations for history buffs. And I further confirmed that my parents are probably the best travel companions I could ask for!

J. Riley, my library queue has grown significantly after this trip!

The Gettysburger and Turkish Delight

This past weekend marked my parent's third trip out to New York to visit - but their first visit since I've lived outside of Manhattan. It was also going to be an interesting trip since they've seen the museums and the typical tourist stops and also because my mom wanted to drive through "the country" and see some landscapes, which would be the....second time I've made a trip outside of Manhattan since I arrived on these shores six years ago (slight exaggeration, but not by much).

My parents arrived Friday evening after a looong day of flying delayed - and feeling quite famished. Apparently, Delta's low-cost flights are self-subsidized by charging for the food and for "extra baggage" (i.e. everything not carried-on). We put that issue to bed by feeding them with a taste of Astoria: my famous (in my household of two) Harissa Spaghettini along with fresh, soft whole wheat pita breads and hummus - which I knew mom would love since she's a big fan of Greek food. Apparently they weren't kidding when they said they were famishes since we nearly polished off two pounds of whole wheat pasta between the four of us.

From there on out, we were non-stop for four days - although it really didn't seem too rushed. Let's break it down, bullet-point style...

New York:

• We woke up at the Haines/Salazar household version of the "butt-crack of dawn" for a Saturday - sometime around 8:00am - in order to fit our busy schedule into the day.
  
• Naturally, this started off with a mouthful of carbohydrates from the place that I consider to have the best bagel in New York - Brooklyn Bagel and Coffee Co., right here in Astoria. We were running late for the next planned event though, so we grabbed our bagelwiches and jauntied down to the subway - destination Union Square.
  
• We had a game to catch! It's been eons since I've made the road trips down to the 11th Street Bar to watch a Liverpool game, and dad was pretty stoked on trying one on for size, while the girls were perfectly happy to peruse the stores in Union Square rather than cram into the jam-packed bar at 10:00am. And, being one of the most important games of the season so far, it was a good day to be among Kopites as the Everton jeers were silenced by a 4-0 pounding of Burnley. I introduced dad to the folklore of the game, the stories and biographies behind the players, and the play-by-play & strategies of the game. I think dad has been converted ;o). The girls also scored with a hat-trick of their own by identifying plenty of things that they wanted to pick up the next day during their shopping blitzkrieg.
• We had no time to spare when we stopped for a brief grab and go lunch at Rice, because we had a Big Onion tour of NoLIta and SoHo to take. We were introduced to the cast-iron facade architecture of beautiful SoHo, the history of the buildings, and the location of 18th-century brothels before wandering over to the "other" St. Patrick's church to marvel at in NoLIta. It was a bit of a crowded tour considering the location, but it was interesting nonetheless.
  
• After marveling at Manhattan's first skyscraper (the Flatiron Building) and dropping of some papers in Chelsea, we slowed down and stopped to smell the flowe...-ing sewage at a small cafe to get our caffeine and sugar fix to keep us going. We didn't have much of a schedule to work off of at this point, so we loitered around, checked out furniture and the mattresses at Macy's (including the dreamy Tempur-pedic) and then headed off to dinner in Astoria with Shane-the-bitter-blue and Susannah at Mundo.
• Mundo is hot. This place serves crazy delicious Argentine and Turkish-influenced food that Susannah and Shane are willing to travel an hour for. The place just has a really friendly vibe and the Argentine host (his name is Willie, apparently) is an expert in all things Astoria. We dined on delicious conversation, platefuls of sultry food, and several pitchers of sangria before we decided to try a recommended night-cap at the nearby (and recently opened) Sweet Afton, which was packed at the early hour that we arrived. Willie highly recommended the Red Lemonade and he was on the money with that one. It was like drinking...red lemonade, except it lit you up pretty quick - just ask my mom ;o) !
• On Sunday, we slept in a bit and had a lazy morning, although it could have been more lazy after our second experience at hidden brunch-spot Elo. Erika and I had experience at this place with Summer and this time around wasn't much better. Last time, we waited almost an hour for the Sunday morning chef to show up before we bailed and this time wasn't much better. The food was solid, but nothing to write home about (except in a blog). Note-to-self: don't bother getting their til noon for brunch because the chef doesn't bother getting there until then either.
• The only location that we had scheduled to visit was picturesque Fort Tryon and the Cloisters. After a long and un-fruitfull walk through the LES to buy Teany tea (closed due to a fire), dad and I decided to stop into the newly opened (!!!) Topman in SoHo. I've browsed their website, but I didn't have any idea that they would open a US location until it was spotted on our tour the day before. It's a great place for a little Fort Tryon of our own - shoes! I've been looking for some new dual-purpose shoes to replace my aging Euro-pumas and I scored a pair for my birthday - but not before dad found a pair of Euro-treaded Plimsolls of his own liking :o).
• To wrap up the day (in Manhattan), we decided to take the train road-trip up to Fort Tryon Park for a walk despite the Cloisters being closed. With such magnificent weather, Fort Tryon was the only place to be with it's lovely views of the Hudson Valley and it's tree-shaded paths. If you've been-there-and-done-that in Manhattan, then it's worth a trip up to this corner of the city for some relaxation.
• One of the benefits of going all the way up to Fort Tryon Park is that you can also take a vaguely interesting tour of Washington Heights and Harlem from the safety of the MTA public buses on your way home. These colorful ethnic communities aren't normally visited by visitors to the city, so it was nice to see them although gentrification is definitely taking it's toll on these out-edges of Manhattan.
  
• The last stop of our day was going to be meeting Susannah at the Bohemian Beer Hall and Garden - definitely a place to stop for reasonable food and fare on a blissfully warm afternoon/evening. They have a whole hosts of beers that we partook in along with burgers, kielbasa, and bratwursts to fill our bellies.

At this point, the next stage of the journey began as my dad and I headed out to Laguardia Airport to pick up a rental car with GPS and everything. Miss Garmin was definitely a worthwhile investment for the trip, though she had some serious issues with airports. She did NOT like to go to Astoria (from Astoria) and did not like to go back to the airport in Astoria (from Astoria). Both trips took at least an hour each, even though upon further review I found that the airport was essentially right down the street from me. Luckily, everything in between was golden with this little beauty.

We didn't know much about what we were in for when we departed at 6:00am on Monday morning for a four hour drive to southern Pennsylvania, other than what dad found on the internet that morning while everyone was waking up and putting on their faces. All we and Miss Garmin knew is that we were heading for the Tourist Visitor Center: Gettysburg.

J. Riley, to be continued....

Peru Recap for June

I'm back from my trip and, while I'm still working on recovering from my flight, I'm alive! It was a pretty busy week that involved lots of public transit, lots of naps on said public transit, and some interesting tidbits!

Pluses:

• I met an interesting couple on the flight down to Peru that are from Cardiff-by-the-Sea (it's a small world). He is an English teacher in Oceanside and for some reason reminded me of my dad. Might of had something to do with the gray goatee, the bald head :o), and they laid-back surfer attitude. They were on their way to Cusco and didn't really seem to know what they were doing, so I gave them the lowdown and recommended a few places to eat. He was also interested in possibly having dental work done somewhere in Latin America so we traded emails and I gave him my assessment of Peruvian dental care. I heard back from him the other day that they totally loved Jack's (Who doesn't? Or so I've heard...) and had a good time in Cusco, despite it being really cold. Anyway, they cashed out of their house in SD at the peak of the real estate bubble and purchased some property in Costa Rica and are planning on retiring there. Sounds like a good idea to me!
  
• Ryan got married - religiously! They had their wedding in a nice church followed by a reception in a tent (similar to our's, but different shape, etc.) at an Air Force club. I had a great time hanging out with Ryan's old buddies, all of whom I had met one time or another throughout the years, and of course his wonderful family. Erika and I had a lot of fun at the wedding and danced our shoes off (shocking!) and enjoyed some of the tasty beverages that were served up.
• Surgery! Erika's mom made it through her plastic surgery with flying colors and, despite not being allowed to leave the hospital yet, she is doing great. We spent a few hours at the hospital every day and hopefully she will be home and recovering soon!
  
• Shopping! Erika and I went to a jacket market in downtown Lima and scored some sweet long baby Alpaca wool jackets for the winter! We paid a total of about $100 for both of them. Unfortunately, due to my size being unusual for Peru, I had to take my jacket to the tailor to get the arms extended and to make it fit my body better. It's worth the extra $15 to make sure I'm warm for the winter.
• Concerts! I had my first experience at a major concert (~30,000 in attendance) in Peru. We saw a Dominican bachata band that we like (Aventura) play a great show, even if I didn't understand anything the singer was saying. Just like rappers singing about life in the hood, the lead singer ("Romeo", which totally fit his character) sang about things that might be considered "typical" for Dominican men like cheating on your girlfriend/wife, how to be a gentleman when you tell your girlfriend/wife you cheated on her, and how to tell your best friend that you are cheating with his girlfriend/wife :o) . But he was quite a showman and we had a great time, even if our feet were about to explode after standing up for about 5 hours by the end of the show.
  

Minuses:

• Concerts :o( Despite the show being great, I had my first experience at someone trying to rob me! I was standing in line waiting to get into the venue (with thousands of others, it was not very well organized) when I suddenly felt a super hard jerk on my arm backwards. Someone was trying to steal my flippin' watch! I turned around, dealt a swift capoeira Armada com martelo kick to the guy's mandible (maybe it was more like this), leveling him and stepped on his neck until the police rushed over and arrested him. And then I woke up from my stooper and turned around, shocked, looked at the guy (who of course pointed to someone else) and ran to catch up to Erika and tell her what happened, massaging my wrist the whole time. Of course there were no police in the area, despite the mass of people. I was freaked out and worried about my wedding ring, her wedding/engagement ring and watch, etc. Of course, she wasn't as concerned since this is not an unusual event in Peru (she's had three watches stolen and her wallet stolen twice) and said "I told you to be careful". Needless to say, I gave her my watch to protect it and was glad that she was the one handling all the money during the trip.
• Michael Jackson :o( RIP. I always wanted to see him make a comeback and it's sad to know that he went out the way he did and hard to believe that he isn't around anymore. I honored his passing by buying a $2 illegal DVD of one of his concerts. Aventura tried to honor him by singing Billy Jean during the concert, but it was horrendous and they got half way through the first chorus before stopping. How do you not know the words of that chorus??

J. Riley, I need more sleep if I want to shake the persistent cough and runny nose that I have. Ohhh...late night flights, when will you cease to torment me with this on every trip?

Pizza Hut

Last night, much to my chagrin, we ate at a Pizza Hut in Peru, which is decorated to be an "elegant" restaurant here, albeit with the same greasy pies as we have in the United States. It's neighbor, KFC, was even much fancier than what we have in the States. The pizza was okay, but I was impressed with the fact that they brought out aji (hot sauce) as a condiment for the pizza. After complaining about the perfection of the machine made pizza, I told Erika it was not bad for a Pizza Hut. She said "It's because Peru has better produce/topping quality than in the US". Ha! I won the bet after confirming that the produce/toppings/cheese, etc. are all from the US.

J. Riley, the hot pepper was a little different, too. A bit more regional, thank god...

Dental Tourism

I arrived in Peru last week with grand expections: we could kill three birds with one stone by fitting in my friends' Ryan and Lili's wedding, Erika's mom's surgery, and of course the completing the latest chapter in my storied dental history all in the course of a week or four. Although I'm only five days into it, it looks like I might have introduced another bird to the story.

I had a dentist appointment on Wednesday night to attend right after I got off of my flight in order to ascertain the possibilities of getting my crown and onlay started by a highly respected dentist in Lima. It is a little bit unfair to expect that I could arrive at 10:00pm at night and have a dentist who doesn't even know what I (or my X-rays) look like to come to a quick conclusion on what needs to be done and, at the same time, for me to determine if it is indeed a dentist that I would trust with doing this work on . But I was pretty impressed already by the fact that he was willing to wait around until that hour to see me, even though he had a 3:15am flight the next day to Northern Peru to participate in a meeting or teach a course at the esteemed university there.

To preface this appointment, there were some reasons (other than financial, the primary reason) that I was exploring this option. I've started to question the integrity of my dentist after they told me that I needed to have a crown done because I had a tooth that had a root canal - two years ago. This same dentist is the one that told me that I needed the root canal done in the first place and was actually the dentist that had put the restoration on that tooth after the root canal. Why would it take them two years to tell me that I suddenly need a crown on a tooth that has been in the same condition since that time? Their excuse was that "teeth that have had root canals can be brittle and can break if you bite something hard". So why didn't they tell me that two years ago? I queried the other dentist in the office who usually does the work on my teeth and her synopsis was "Well, it's not really required since there is not impact with the tooth on the bottom, it's just recommended." Differing opinions in the same office make me want to get another opinion.

So the dentist in Lima spent a lot of time reviewing my x-rays that I brought along and poked around my mouth a little bit checking out the teeth that needed to be worked on. He was a younger guy than I had pictured and he was pretty quiet for most of the time, studying the various pictures of my jaw. But after about fifteen minutes, he sat in front of me and gave me his opinion of the situation. He said that the four walls of the tooth that had the root canal were healthy and strong and that very little of the tooth had been removed when the root canal was done, so he was 80% sure that nothing else was needed on that tooth. He could tell 100% by removing the restoration that covered that tooth, but he basically confirmed what my initial opinion was - that it wasn't needed. He said that having a root canal alone does not make a tooth brittle. What makes the tooth brittle is when a tooth has a lot of decay - or something along those lines. But he was very clear that a root canal alone does not require a tooth to have a crown and that my tooth was healthy and strong.

The second tooth he didn't talk to me much about, but just said that there was nothing that needed to be done other than the restoration that had already been performed. I was confused about that because I was supposed to get an onlay done on that tooth. Was he looking at the right tooth? What about the "gray" area around the existing (metal) filling that my dentist mentioned? He said that anything that needed to be done about that filling would be cosmetic only, but that there was no other problem. After the appointment, I was reading through my dentist's notes and they mentioned the tooth number, so I will go back to the dentist in Lima on Tuesday to just make sure I'm on the same page as he is.

So this was not the results I was expecting, but is that a bad thing? The dentist in Lima himself mentioned that he is used to seeing people with serious issues (if you've been to Peru and seen people's teeth, you'll understand), so does that mean he is accustomed to only looking for serious problems, wheras my dentist in NY is looking for little problems and fixing them before they become bigger problems? It seems like there are more questions now than there were before, so I will likely go back to NY and get a second opinion there as well before deciding what to do...

J. Riley, sigh.....

Geek Squad

Stefan and I (mostly "I") have been working on some "special projects" on my - I mean Stefan's - new Linux box. We've got the photo galleries working, I've learned about the exciting world of virtual domains with Apache, and I recently approved Stefan's shopping list of items that he's going to purchase for his other computers. I like how this relationship works: Stefan tells me what geeky tools he wants, I approve, he buys it. I tell Stefan what I geeky tools I want, I approve, and Stefan buys it. Last night, I approved his purchases of several new massive hard drives for several computers, enough to run a small company with. On my part, I plan on putting this equipment to use. Some special projects, most of which are for research and learning reasons only, that I have on my Todoist to-do-list:

• Lock down the Linux box
  
• Configure remote access to his Ubuntu GUI for my special project use.
• Configure a secure email server with encrypted logons and attempt to setup Horde IMP email on it.
• Configure a MUX (is that the right term? "Backup") e-mail server.
• Create a PHP and MySQL-powered DVD/Movie library web application for Stefano
• Setup remote backup/rsyncs between about four computers in three locations.

That should keep me busy while Erika is gone. By the way, Erika is going to Peru for three weeks to attend to Ryan and Lili's reception dinner and wedding (!!!) and attend to her mom after her surgery. I will be going down for a week and a half to attend the aforementioned wedding parties as well getting major dental work done (one crown and one inlay) in a third-world country by a "renowned" (I hope) dentist for 1/4 of the price that it would cost me in the States. My boss is great because he's going to let me "telecommute from home" on my non-medical, non-party days, which is a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.

In other news, I spent an hour and a half over the past 24 hours listening to a conversation on Oprah ("Harpo" backwards) with a guy named Eckhart Tolle about his book (actually, the first chapter of his book; it's a 9-part series). I also spent at least one hour at work discussing his ideas with a co-worker at work today. I haven't been much of a spirtual thinker the last few years, and I continuously rejected my co-worker's suggestion to listen to these podcasts for several months because usually this kind of stuff makes me fall asleep - FAST. Those of you who know me know that I think these New Age type people are total wack-jobs, but this Tolle guy is bring up some damn interesting things to think about. If anybody is interested, download the report on his first chapter and spend an hour and a half listening to it and thinking about it. It's a lot easier than I thought. The other chapters (which I haven't got to yet, but I'm fascinated with) can be found at the bottom of this page.

J. Riley, The fingers in my hand have been tingling a lot today. I should probably be concerned about this, considering my myotonic dystrophy :o/

Pondering Relocations...

Last weekend, Erika and I embarked on a trip out to California for Faryn's graduation! The whole family was gathering, so I knew it would be a great time to hang out with everyone again and get to introduce Erika to Southern California and its peaks and pits. I feared the worst: that she would opt to stay in San Diego and let me go back to New York alone!

In an optimization strategy, we decided to stay for five days and try to get as much done as possible in such a short amount of time. As well as the graduation festivities, the clan planned outings to the Getty Center in LA and a chance to nurse the graduation hangover with a day at Disneyland, followed by a lovely tour of LA (barf), and a few days down in San Diego.

And the trip was grand. The Getty Center was more than I imagined that Los Angeles could muster in terms of culture (note: I openly discriminate and am prejudiced against the megatropolis of LA). Open-air, wonderful views of the city, world-class art, fresh creeks, florist sculptures, and architectual exhibits abounded at the Getty Center - it was everything that I imagined LA wasn't. My only regret was that we didn't have enough time to spend there as Graham, Erika, and I drove up from San Diego in the morning and there was traffic and Faryn's big event to attend/experience in the afternoon.

I remember my college graduation day. I wanted to see everyone before I left town and on graduation day, but there just wasn't enough time. Like myself, everyone had visitors in town and each person had there own events to attend. I remember my roommate Ryan and I having a low-key barbeque or pot-luck of some sorts at our apartment. But it was just a crazy day with the ceremonies, seeing people for the last time, and hanging out with all of our visitors.

I suppose Faryn's graduation was a similar experience for her! We unloaded and changed in the hotel and rushed to her apartment to find her in amongst her boxes doing her hair and her roommates still packing. We had rushed there thinking we were going to be late for her department's congregation at the school, only to find out later that the event didn't start for another hour and a half and was really just a place to go eat some fresh fruit and delicious sun-warmed cookies, all of which I ate way too much of. But we hung around there with Faryn as she said hi to her departmental friends.

After an early dinner of Greek food near the campus, we went back to the stadium to catch the graduation ceremonies and witness the honoring of EIGHT HUNDRED students graduating. Yes, all of their names were read outloud :o) ! We had giggled in sympathy for Erika when she said that her graduation from college was two hours long, but this event turned out to eclipse that by at least 30 minutes! But, there were some memorable moments such as the tossing of tortillas by the students (???) and some racial epithets (is that a word?) by one of the speakers (classy). But at least there were plenty of interesting costumes for the guests at this event: girls with skirts barely covering their undies, terrible bleach-blondes, and the now infamous curly-black-hair mulleted guy with elf-en pointy-toe shoes five sizes too big and a bad case of slacks that were too tight and non-existent underwear. Why I didn't capture this character in digital photos, I don't know!

After graduation, we drove around Pasadena looking for a place to celebrate and settled on a sushi joint were dad proceeded to lead us to a happy place with saki-bombs! We ate some pretty good sushi at the place too, props to Summer for her selections right up my alley! I gotta say, Pasadena is a pretty nice place with loads of clubs, bars, and restaurants. I don't think I had ever been there before, but I would definitely return if I was unlucky enough to find myself in LA in the near future.

We crashed hard that night, it was a long day after a six-hour flight the night before and about five hours of sleep. It helped that the Hampton Inn we stayed at was much, much nicer than the one I stayed at for a week in Columbus, Indiana back in the day!

Sunday was the triumphant return to Disneyland for the first time since about Junior High for me, and Erika's first time at a Disney location! We met Graham, Brie, and the kids there and about five pictures in, our camera broke. As Summer would say: FAIL! Lucky for me, I have a sister that, ahemmm, "offered" her camera to me to use for the day.

Disneyland was great. It was everything that it was the first time I went with my grandparents when I was eight years old. My dad attempted to support his veto of excessive purchases of gifts for my niece by asking us what we bought on that first trip. All I remembered at the time was a new wallet and $20 (!!!!) that my grandparents gave me and my brother. I think I lost some of the money (not for the first time), but I definitely remember buying a toy musket-style rifle from somewhere in Frontier Land! We did all the rides there, some with the kids, and some later on without, and they were still great. It's A Small World was interesting despite not changing in 50 years (they even have Peruvians!), they scored big points with Pirates of the Caribbean, and of course the roller coasters like Space Mountain, Matterhorn, and the Thunder Mountain train ride. Those rides don't need to change! The only one that was lame was the Haunted House. At least put something spooky in there!!

We did about 14 hours at Disneyland before we shut the place down. We could definitely have used a second day at the Disney properties to get the full experience, and that probably would have been a better idea than trying to show Erika LA on Monday morning after dining and saying goodbye to the North-bound part of the Haines train. LA was a disaster. Armed with my trusty AAA map provided by the hotel, we headed out to try to find film studios and Hollywood. And I was provided with the first sign of disaster quickly after departure from the hotel. I GOT LOST TRYING TO FIND THE HIGHWAY FROM DISNEYLAND! This is not an easy thing to do people, but I managed it. I was so stressed out driving through LA and didn't manage to find the exits I hoped to find to the studios. So, I got off the highway to turn around and found out that there was no entrance back onto it.

My head was turning red and I could feel the steam starting to whistle out of my ears. Eventually, two hours later, we found lovely Beverly Hills and I mellowed out (a little bit). Hey, we're on Sunset Blvd, this is the right way to Hollywood, right? Yea, right down to seedy-town, Hollywood. Luckily, I used the phone-a-friend lifeline and was rescued with some directions to the star-walk. It was under-impressive (as I expected), but Erika was trying her best to not slap me in the face with my wonderfully negative attitude the whole time. She was disappointed that we weren't doing a studio tour (my fault I guess), so I attempted to satiate the situation with tickets to the wax museum, Guiness Book of World Records, and Ripley's Believe It or Not. Some of the things at these places were interesting, but I was itching to get out of LA and head to San Diego.

Ahhh...San Diego. I was immediately relaxed when we pulled into In 'N Out (after passing too many in LA) and chowed on the greatest burgers in the world. We hung out with Brie and Graham at night, relaxed some more, and slept in the next morning at our hotel by Moonlight Beach. Auntie Jude came by in the morning and we mosied on down to the beach at about noon and enjoyed the patches of sunshine and warmth there. I took a dip in the water for a while and just enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere. Auntie Jude said, "Justin, you guys have to move here".

After Auntie Jude departed, we went back to the hotel and showered and looked presentable for lunch at Encinitas's fantastic Peruvian restaurant Q'ero (the artists formerly known as Amici's) with my old friend Russell and his family. Russ spent two years of his youth in Ecuador, so it was fun to hear his old stories of Ecuador and compare it with Erika's Peru. Q'ero did a good job of reigniting Russ's sensory agents with their flavor and atmosphere, things he hadn't experienced since he left Ecuador nine years ago. At the end of the relaxing meal and the climactic tres leches cake (best Erika has ever had, I might add), Russ said, "J, you should move out here. No, you HAVE to move here."

We walked through Encinitas afterwards, doing some window shopping and Erika did some beauty products shopping before we arrived at Swamy's surf-spot, where we parked it on the benches and enjoyed the sunshine and the surfers on the cliffs before us. We planned on walking up to Graham and Brie's a little bit later but were saved when they called us to find out where we were. Graham was roasting up a carne asada tri-tip, so we met up with Brie and did some grocery shopping at the lovely gourmet Seaside Market before heading up the hill for dinner.

Dining on Graham's food is on my list along with Mexican food and In 'N Out when I'm in SD. Despite the late lunch, the food was great as always and we hung out, watched some reality TV and basketball, Erika and Brie shared wedding albums and stories while I was in heaven setting up Graham's new Mac with remote access (!!!) . It was just so relaxing, possibly aided by the fact that the kids were asleep already :o) . Brie said to us, "It would be so great if you guys moved out here!"

On our last day, we took Ellie to Sea World with us. It's tough being so far away from everyone, so we thought it would be a great idea to spend some time with the newest 3-year-old adult of the family. Surprisingly, Brie had no objections for us taking her off her hands for the day ;o). Not surprisingly, Ellie already had the map at Sea World memorized and the first thing she wanted to do was....? The pet show? No. Shamu? No. Penguins? No. SHARKS! I think that's pretty bad ass that my three-year-old niece wanted to go hang out with the sharks. Well, we did hang out with them after we rushed to see the Dolphin Show. She also wanted to touch the sting-rays. The idea sounded good to her, but she wasn't quite comfortable actually touching them. We also went on the newish Wild Arctic Ride, which Ellie barely passed in order to ride. I felt a little bit dizzy on the ride and was worried about her, since it was pretty scary and violent. Afterwards, she said "That was so fun!!!!" I was slightly naseus :o). We hit almost everything during the blissfully blistering hot day in Mission Bay and Ellie was destroyed by the time it was time for us to leave. She actually fell asleep in the stroller in the parking lot on the way back to the car, how's that for timing?

Finally, to cap the trip, we filled up Graham's fish water tanks with fresh ocean water and watched the surfers before hitting up a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place to check off the last box. We drove around downtown a little bit before heading to the airport to our red-eye flight. As expected, Erika loved San Diego as much as I did (like always). I woke up the next morning to rain in the sky and grey New York and Erika and I both thought, "We need to move to San Diego".

J. Riley, looking forward to the economic recovery, cuz I need a job in SD.