Off the Beaten Track
Sandy Barker's Travel BlogArchive for travel
A Guide to Staying at an All-inclusive Resort
I distinguish myself as a traveler, rather than a tourist. Ben has adopted this mantle too. The difference? How each handles differences. A traveler embraces, while the tourist compares. “This place/meal/person is amazing,” “Or, it is better back home.” So, does a traveler travel, while a tourist ‘vacations’? Not necessarily. Most of the time we travel, but on occasion we ‘vacation’, so what do we call ourselves when we stay at an all-inclusive resort? Lucky buggers.
We have now done two all-inclusive trips, both to Mexico. This past Christmas/New Year we went to the SolMar in Cabo, where we had a view of the Pacific and the pool. The weather just happened to be a prefect 78F every day, and we had a brilliant 8 days, 8 nights. So, how can one make the most of an all-inclusive resort, without becoming a whiny tourist? Read on…
One: Be nice to the staff.
You’re going to see a lot of them, especially because in Mexican resorts most of the staff work very long hours. The person who serves you your breakfast may also bring your your nightcap. So, smile. Learn names. Thank them. Ask for things politely. And tidy up your room before housekeeping comes. Your mum doesn’t work at the resort and no one wants to pick up your dirty knickers.
Two: Work your way through the menu.
On day one, the 12 choices on the breakfast menu will seem like a lot. By day 5 you will be missing your Cheerios. Variety is the key to enjoying a week of cooked resort breakfasts.
Three: Eat out.
Just because your stay includes 3 squares a day (plus snacks and drinks), it doesn’t mean you must eat every meal at the resort. You are on vacation, so don’t worry about getting your money’s worth by restricting yourself to the one menu. Find the little out-of-the-way cafe or restaurant where the locals eat. These places can be gems, especially in Mexico. We ate here on New Years’ Eve and it was amazing: Los Tres Gallos.
Four: Eat in.
Take advantage of the fact that you have already paid for your meals at the resort, so plan for some dinners in. And splurge for a nice bottle of wine, if only house wine is included with your dinner.
Five: Plan some adventures.
Step away from the cabana and the sun lounger and the all-you-can drink Margaritas, and plan a cool day trip or two. Ben and I decided the best way to do this, is have an adventure sandwich. relaxing morning, adventure activity in the afternoon, and back to the resort for a relaxing evening. And if you skip this step, you may get ‘resort fever’ which is very much like cabin fever, even if you are outside by the pool. Mix it up. Get out there, especially if you are somewhere you have never been before. A lot of people claim to have gone to Hawaii, or Mexico, or the Caribbean, or Fiji, when all they have really done is sit by a pool that happens to be in one of those places. This is the behavior of a tourist.
Six: Plan some lounging time.
You are on vacation. It cannot all be, ‘go, go, go.’ Plan some time to sit by the pool or beach and read, sip cocktails, and talk at length with your spouse, lover, or both. This part of the trip is muy, muy, importanto and part of the reason you booked a stay at a resort. Recharge. Relax.
Seven: Do not be the drunk, obnoxious asshole who talks too loudly and treats the staff like crap.
If this is you, do everyone else a favor and stay home.
Eight: Beware time share.
If you are offered an unbelievable deal on excursions with the proviso that you attend a meeting/breakfast/tour/party that is only 90 minutes, don’t do it. Time share sales people will suck your soul along with your time.
Nine: Learn the local language.
If you are leaving the country, at least learn the basics. Hello. Good bye. Please, thank you, and good night will get you a long way. People appreciate the effort even if your accent is atrocious.
Ten: Have a brilliant time.
We did.
Reading, Writing and Relatives
I am spending some time with my sister, brother-in-law and nephew in London. They live in the bustling borough of Teddington, where terraces houses are the norm and vehicles try to maneuver down narrow streets without taking off the side mirrors of parked cars.
I have spent most of my time here at home, or out and about the neighborhood with my sister and nephew.
I have visited with two long-time friends, and enjoyed outings to Kingston (shopping hub), Oxfordshire (to see our Great-aunt), and to Hampton Court Palace. I have seen and done some really cool stuff, and usually I would blog all about it.
But I have started this blog post seven times. Seven. My travel writing synapses appear to be broken. Unlike my sister, whose oven is steaming food rather than roasting it, I cannot call a handy-person to come fix my problem.
I wonder if it is because I am reading so much during this latest vacation. Sometimes I am in a writing phase, sometimes I am in a reading phase and sometimes I would rather just watch America’s Next Top Model. I would love for this writing issue to be sorted out, however, as I have made some fascinating observations during my stay, and I would like to get them down to share with my fans. Yes, I really wrote that. You know who you are.
And so I am left with one topic to use as fodder for my post: what I am reading.
Victoria and Mark (aforementioned sister and brother-in-law) love books and have an extensive library in their home. These three books caught my eye.
I love anything about Robin Hood (yes, even that silly film by Costner), so picked up the first book in the series, Hood. It re-imagines the tale, presenting Hood as a Welsh Prince in the 11th Century, whose kingdom is usurped by a French count, who has murdered his father. Loved it. Couldn’t put it down. Read it in three days. I did that thing where you stay up until midnight and you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, so have to put the book down. I can’t remember the last time I stayed up late to read a book.
I bought the other two books on Kindle.
A couple of weeks ago I finished The Art of Fielding. To say that it is a book about baseball is to over simplify a book that is indeed – a little – about baseball. It is a modern American piece about some well-drawn people with beautifully-crafted arcs. I loved it and I don’t mind baseball. The Costner films about baseball were both terrific, by the way.
I am also about 1/5 through Steve Jobs’ autobiography. I loved the start, but it has dissolved into a detailed history of Apple’s rise to infamy. I am not sure what I expected, but I am hoping to learn more about the man and less about the business.
Also on the Kindle and already capturing my attention, is the new Stephen King novel, 11.22.63. This is about a man who travels back in time to stop Kennedy’s assassination. I am fascinated by Kennedy’s reign and time travel. I also like King’s writing, so I think I will enjoy getting stuck into this one. I should mention that Costner was also in a film about Kennedy’s assassination.
I didn’t read anything today, though. I was too busy out and about with my nephew and sister at Wisley Gardens.
I am glad to have finally finished an actual post. ‘Til next time…
Leaving home and homeward bound
I have been home in Sydney for the past week to finalize a work visa for my new job in Seattle. The trip, while being ‘immigrationally necessary’, has been the greatest gift.
When I landed the position at Groundspeak two months ago, I was thrilled – and then a little sad. I realized that it meant I would not see Australia, my home, for at least a year and a half.
Hence, the reason I have treated this week as a gift. The work visa was approved on Monday morning, and while I awaited the return of my passport, I enjoyed every moment of being home.
I have hugged old friends and chatted excitedly on the phone to others. I have swapped stories, gossip, concerns and triumphs, catching up on nearly a year of absense. I have talked at length with my dad, and spent an evening of laughter and tears at my aunt and uncle’s dining table.
I have indulged in many cups of coffee made by top-notch baristas, and stocked up on Jaffas and BONDS undies. I have taken dozens of photos of the most beautiful coastline in the world, filled a ziplock bag with sand from Bronte beach, and raided my storage boxes for much-loved books I want to take back to Seattle. I brought one suitcase, and I am taking two back. I have a tan.
And after just a week on Aussie soil, and my accent is as thick as ever (Ben calls it my Aussie accent ‘reboot’).
In a few hours I will be jetting across the Pacific Ocean on my way home. When I get there it will be one hour after I left, which I love, because it feels like ‘time travel’. I lost a Thursday on the way over, but am happily swapping it for two Saturdays.
On arrival, after hugs and kisses, and unpacking and showering (is there anything that feels better after a long-haul flight?), Ben and I will head over to our friend’s place for their housewarming party.
I will get to hug my new friends, and swap stories about our escapades over the past week, and plans for our upcoming holiday season. I will spend the rest of the weekend trying to get on Seattle time as quickly as possible, for on Monday morning I (finally) start my new job. I cannot wait.
So, I leave home to fly home, just as I did a week ago. When you have two places you call home, you are prone to twinges of homesickness, you will always miss loved ones, and you will sometimes slip into the annoying habit of comparing the two places – even if only to yourself.
But you will also have more love in your life, more joy, more nostalgia, and more hope for the future than you can possibly imagine.
I do. And I am very grateful. For all of it.
Geocached up
So, I have landed a new job.
As soon as my work visa is sorted, I will be working for Groundspeak, who run Geocaching.com among many other things.
Geocaching, as a recreation, was new to me when I applied for the job. I researched it, and decided that not only did I want to work with the people at Groundspeak, but that I wanted to become a geocacher. And so I have.
Ben and I signed up right away – when I was mid interviews. He has one of the fancy schmancy phones that does everything – including answer the phone – so we were all geared up with GPS technology. We created an online profile, and searched for caches based on our zip code.
Voila! Over 500 caches popped up within a 5 miles radius. Um, yeah, let’s narrow that down a bit.
We chose one and headed out from our apartment towards the Seattle Center. Unbeknown to us, we had picked the day of a huge festival to find our first cache. Our first task was to navigate our way through the throngs of people all desperate to get their hands on freebies, corn on the cob, or beer in plastic cups.
We rounded a corner and headed down a ramp, finally easing away from the crowd. You see, when you participate in geocaching, you want to keep a low profile. No one wants their cache raided or stolen by ‘muggles’ (they have appropriated the term from the Harry Potter series), so you have to ensure that you are discreet.
Down the end of the ramp, and around the corner, the GPS assessed that we were ‘there’. Now it was our job to find the cache within a 15-25 foot radius, not knowing exactly what we were looking for, and all the while trying to appear like we weren’t looking for anything at all.
It didn’t take long. Ben took a chance on venturing a little way into the garden bed and it paid off. The cache was a sealed Tupperware container, and enclosed was a log book, which we signed, and a few trinkets. We took nothing, but left a coupon for free yogurt.
Success.
We were quite pleased with ourselves, despite the fact that the ratings for difficulty and terrain were both 1/5. Still, we were no longer non-geocachers. We went to a film that afternoon, and when we got home, logged onto our profile and shared our success.
Since then we have sought three other caches, two of which were successful. The third is located in a small nature reserve in West Seattle. We chose it because we had yet to get out to West Seattle, and it was deemed a 2.5/5 for both difficulty and terrain. We wanted to kick it up a notch.
We discovered a few things that day.
Firstly, geocaching gets you out of the house, which is a particularly good thing when you realize that you are still in your pajamas at noon on a Sunday.
Secondly, if you choose caches in places you haven’t been to before, then you get to go somewhere new! This may seem obvious, but it is delightful, nevertheless, to go somewhere you haven’t been before.
West Seattle gave us this view of our neighborhood.
Queen Anne from West Seattle
We also discovered the joy of finding a cache that someone else cannot find. While we were looking for a Rating 1/1 cache close to where I took this photo, we saw other people looking for the same cache. They were following the readings on their GPS, trying to be surreptitious, and left after they had looked in all the same places we had. Only we decided to keep trying after they left.
At that moment I looked down and saw a small piece of paper next to my foot. I picked it up; it was a fortune from a cookie. It said “Your short-term goal will be realized soon.” I showed it to Ben, just as he put his hand on the cache. Cool!
The last thing we discovered that day was that you can try too hard.
We went in search of the 2.5/2.5 cache (that is 2.5/5 for difficulty and terrain). We had some notes from the previous finders, and we had the location in our GPS, but under the dense canopy of trees, the GPS was rendered next to useless.
It got us in the general vicinity, but we could never seem to get close to the cache, no matter how deep we went into the woods.
At one point I had climbed down a steep incline, fought my way through giant ferns, knocked down about 5o spider webs, and traversed a fallen log that was 8 feet off the ground on its far side. Nothing. And the only way out was to repeat all of that in reverse.
After more than an hour we were both dirty, sweaty and a little baffled. We went back to the main path, and even tried a couple of other small paths. None of them could get us any closer to the location marked by the GPS.
Ben emerging from a path
We called it a day.
We walked back to the car, drove back across town and when we got home looked up the cache. One note said, “The position of the cache is visible from the main path.” We had tried too hard. We had been searching for a cache that would have been rated much higher than 2.5/5 for either terrain or difficulty. We had dug holes, looked in trees, and gone WAAAYYYYY off the path.
But we’ll go back. I want that cache!
So, as I wait for the visa thing to be sorted, I am learning many wonderful and interesting things about all aspects of the geocaching world.
I have learned that in Western Australia there are 1818 caches. I have learned that most people I know in North America are geocachers themselves, or know someone who is.
I have also activated the Geocoin given to me by one of the founders of Groundspeak during my final interview. (Thank you Brian). I have set its course for the UK, and then Australia in the hopes that it will find its way back to me here. Isn’t that cool?
And, courtesy of my new boss, Jenn, I have my own geocaching profile now under the profile name, Sandy (for those who have accounts too – they’re FREE!) . At the moment I share all my caching information with Ben and our joint profile. Perhaps we will always cache together, as we are loving our mini adventures, but this gives us the chance to broaden our individual horizons too.
So, this is a little insight into my new world. I hope to see you out in it.
Musings from Minnesota
“Summer time and the living is easy…”
Gershwin had it right. When the days are hot and the breezes are cool, when lakes are glassy and the loons call out at dusk, when you’re sipping beer and reading on the deck, life is easy.
A few days ago, Ben and I got back from a week at Crosslake, Minnesota. It is about a 3-hour drive from the twin cities, and is a heavenly part of the world.
Ben’s grandmother, Ellie, owns a cabin on Rush Lake, and we headed up there for some time away from the city bustle. Ben’s parents joined us half way through our stay and friends, Jake and Arielle, brought their baby Gus to visit.
Snippets from our stay:
Getting grubby
We both spend too much of our day to day lives indoors sitting at desks. That is why we gladly donned gloves and work clothes and got a little grubby doing yard work.
We raked and cleared, and I ushered a fist-sized frog down to the water when he (she?) emerged a little shell-shocked from a pile of leaves. I unearthed an old wheel barrow
and mended a small outdoor table. It feels really good to hit wood with a hammer!
When cleaning the speed boat I discovered at least 50 different kinds of spiders. In fact, there seem to be more spiders in the state of Minnesota than there are in the entire of Australia. One even thought that wiggling around inside my bra (while it was on) would be fun. Perhaps it was, but only for the spider.
Even Little Gus took time out of his visit to pitch in. Here he is getting vital instruction from Uncle Ben.
Seeing and being seen
My biggest question of the week was: “Are we in Minnesota or Miami?” The 4th of July long weekend on the lakes of Minnesota is the scene to see and be seen.
On one of our first jaunts out and about, I said to Ben, “I didn’t realize that I should be in a bikini and artfully arranged across the back of the boat.” He replied that he was all for supporting local cultural practices, so I adjusted my attire and seating arrangements on subsequent days, just to fit in…you know.
Getting into the Minnesota groove
Lazy days
So much of our time was just lazing about. Reading on the deck, walking to the shore and watching the sunset, playing with Remy, (Kevin and Ellen’s dog), getting ice-cream from the parlor in town, enjoying the fresh air, and having encounters with the wildlife (chipmunks, squirrels, frogs, crawfish, turtles, loons, geese and ‘lake’gulls).
Taken by Ben
Even our boys, Squirt and Tahoe, spent some time just watching the world go by. It was a truly relaxing time.
Water works
Of course, spending time up at the lakes means being on and in the water.
View of lagoon from dock
We swam, floated about on sun loungers, boated on the pontoon, sped about in the speed boat and even water skied on our last day up there. While the speed boat wasn’t powerful enough to slalom ski, I got up easily on two (despite the 16 years since I have done that) and took full advantage of the glassy water. There are few things that feel as exhilarating being ‘out on the whip’ as the boat turns.
4th of July Celebrations
And of course, our visit coincided with a festive time of the year. We attended the 4th of July parade, and watched as children lining the streets hauled more candy thrown from floats than they would ever get while trick or treating.
There were patriots young,
and old.
A highlight for us was seeing a family friend, Carl, driving his restored 1910s firetruck in the parade.
We were lucky enough to be taken for a ride on his firetruck a few days later.
As always, a warm thank you to my best friend and traveling companion, Ben, and to his lovely family who were wonderful to us.
‘Til the next time I wander…
Hawaii H2O
Every day we were in Hawaii we were either in the water or out on it, sailing, snorkeling, paddling and swimming. Ben even tried surfing, and we both had a bash at paddleboarding.
Some of the highlights:
Sunset Cruise (Maui). Our first night on Maui we got on a sunset cruise, which was romantic and fun, and reminded us exactly why we love Maui so much.
Back in Maui!
We got our sea legs pretty quickly.
Sea legs
The views of the coastline were beautiful, but it was this that blew us away at the end of the evening:
Sunset from Maui
We enjoyed our ‘champagne’ out of plastic cups, and dancing to old tunes (no easy task on a rocking yacht), but mostly were both we thrilled to be back out on the water. Our holiday began with a bang.
Beach bumming (Maui and Kaua’i). We didn’t spend too much time just laying on the beach with the occasional dip in the sea. We spent just enough. We got our Vitamin D, we chilled out, and we got a little tanned.
Our resort's beach on Maui
We even brought our ‘boys’ down so they could get the sun they’d been missing in Seattle.
Ben with Tahoe Bear and Squirt
(Yes, I know they aren’t real, but don’t tell Ben.)
On Kaua’i we got secret directions to Secret Beach. It took us a couple of U-turns, but we found it. When we arrived, we were the only ones there.
Shhhh. Secret Beach
The view back along the coast was incredible.
View from Secret Beach
And Ben is becoming quite the body surfer.
Body Surfer
The water is an incredible color! We did read later, much like the information we discovered after our hike in Waimea Canyon, that the rips off the coast of Kaua’i have been responsible for a few casualties. There was one moment when I looked up from my book, and couldn’t see Ben in the surf. My heart leapt into my throat, mostly because we were alone, and I would not be able to rescue him without drowning myself, but he waved and called out from further down the beach.
Snorkeling Molokini Atoll (Maui). This trip took most of the day, and began by sailing out to the atoll on a double hulled catamaran.
On our way to Molokini
Once there, we geared up, and got to the business of snorkeling one of the clearest and best snorkeling spots in the world.
Underwater by Ben
Ben took some terrific underwater shots:
Angel Fish by Ben
by Ben
by Ben
Our next stop was ‘Turtle Town’, where we swam with the sea turtles. At first I was doubtful we would see any, but I spotted the first one, followed it with Ben until we found a much bigger one, then we followed that one. I saw 4 turtles, and one of them was only a few feet from me. Ben has some terrific shots on his Flickr page of our last jaunt with the sea turtles (April 2007), so check them out.
I love sea turtles. They have such grace, and seem so wise (perhaps because some of them are over 100 years old). The native Hawaiians believe they are spiritual guides. I know that I feel a special kind of peace when I swim with them.
Kayaking Waimea River to a waterfall. This was a terrific afternoon on Kaua’i where we paddled up river about 2 and a half miles,
Kayaking Waimea River
tied up our kayaks,
Parking lot
hiked another mile into the rain forest to the waterfall,
Through the mud
Hike through the rainforest
Awesome scenery
and then swam in it.
Was only a little chilly
Our guide was a Hawaiian native who happily works for the family-run business. Terada knows her stuff, and loves her homeland. She tackled the hike (through mud, streams and over rocks) bare-footed. And she filled the hike with lots of interesting information about the terrain.
We hiked out on a different path, where we saw this waterfall.
Water feature
We loved the whole thing; it was a terrific excursion.
Happy travelers
Sailing up the Napoli Coast (Kaua’i). We took a sunset cruise off the coast of Kaua’i that took us up to the Napoli Coast (accessible only by boat or by foot).
The coastline is THE most beautiful I have ever seen. Our skipper took his time, and pointed out landmarks along the way. I think its beauty speaks for itself.
Aqua Agua
The Queen's Bath
Archway
And yes, the water really was this brilliant aqua color. We could 80 feet to the ocean floor, and watched sea turtles swimming between the boat and the shore.
Cave
Ben wants to hike to this cave and camp here on our next trip to Kaua’i. I’d be up for that.
Watertrickle
After we turned back, and the sun started to set, our skipper saw some spinner dolphins leaping out of the water not too far off our bow. He made his way over there, and Ben got some terrific footage as they swam off the wake of the bow.
Spinner Dolphins
I felt like a little kid. I couldn’t stop smiling.
Delighted
Boarding (Surfing on Maui and Paddleboarding on Kaua’i). Ben had a go at long board surfing on Maui. He took a lesson with two other guys, and while they practiced their moves on land, they looked a little like the ‘Surfettes’.
Boy band or surfers in the making?
He stood his first go, and continued to ride the waves. Not bad for a guy who grew up landlocked!
Catching his first wave
Hanging 10 (off the board)
Paddleboarding was a whole new sport. You stand on a specially designed long board and paddle. You can catch waves, but must change to the surfer stance, and it takes a lot of practice. Ben had a lesson, and the next day taught me. On my birthday we spent a couple of hours paddling around Kalapaki Bay.
Paddleboarding
Lounging at the pool. We spent little time at the Marriott resort pool, but we made a point to swim, spa and sun ourselves. Wouldn’t you?
3 of 5 swim-up spas
Pool with views to the beach
Hawaii was a brilliant time. We squeezed every moment out of our time there. And it is always a pleasure to travel with my best friend.
Ben
Sand
Hawaii: The high life
Let me set the scene: 8 days in Hawaii, 4 on Maui, 4 on Kaua’i. We mixed it up: relaxation and adventure. We saw new sights and revisited a couple of favorites.
We spent a lot of time up high.
Ziplining (Maui). This is a relatively new past time, where you hook onto a steel cable, launch from a platform, and ‘zip’ over a canyon to a landing platform on the other side.
Adventure Chick ready for action
We had two guides for the excursion, Junior and John, who were a well-practiced comedy duo, and handled our diverse group with deft hands. The first one to launch off the first perch was a little, round woman who was visibly terrified. John talked her through it, and then the rest of us lined up, one by one, and crossed the canyon.
Ziplining
I was nicknamed ‘Giggles’, because I laughed every time I crossed. It was just exhilarating. We did 8 crossings, ranging from 350 feet to 1100 feet. The trick on landing was to get feet on the platform and run out the momentum.
Ben coming in for a landing
The views were incredible.
View from the final crossing
The lookout where we had morning tea revealed the next valley over. Spectacular views, but I doubt I would have ziplined across something so deep.
Views up the canyon
Adventurers
Hiking the North Maui coastline. Not only was some of the hike precarious (sheer cliffs – I took the ‘long way’ a couple of times), the road to get there was too. For about 20 miles, the road is a single lane winding along the coast. There were a few times where we had to hug the edge to let another car pass. The ‘pay off’ was mind-blowing landscapes and cultural phenomena.
Right on the edge
Our guidebook mentioned that there is a spot on the North Maui coastal drive where travelers have left hundreds of stone piles. The guidebook also says that these piles of rocks have no cultural significance. This may be true of the ancient Hawaiians, but for the travelers who make it here and leave their own ‘mark’ on the landscape, the sculptures have taken their own significance. It is like ecologically friendly graffiti.
Stoners
The day before we did the hike, we drove past on our way to the beach. I was intrigued.
Picking my way through the 'ruins'
The next day we left ours atop a cliff.
Eco-friendly graffiti
The rest of the hike revealed a landscape so unusual, that we felt like we were on set of a Sci-Fi movie.
North Maui Coastal Hike
Nature's Gargoyles
Molten Mt Rushmore
Wasteland
The rest of this hike will be featured in the next post: we were on a quest to find two blow holes, the second of which sometimes blows water 100 feet in the air.
NouNou Mountain Hike (Kaua’i). Our first day on Kaua’i we followed our noses to NouNou Mountain, where we could trek up high and get a lay of the land.
The trail was deemed a ‘moderate’ hike, and for two reasonably fit people, we certainly worked hard for the 45 minutes it took us to climb the trail. The terrain was rugged, so challenging, and there were a few shortcuts that were little more than tree root ladders.
Rugged trail
We stopped to admire the view. The day was heating up, and we were working hard.
View from the half-way point
We pushed on to the top, not really knowing how much further it was.
The view of the coastline, towns and farms was spectacular.
Kaua'i Coastline
Not much further we got to the apex of the mountain, with views back to the rest of the mountain range. We turned around and headed back to the car, satisfied that the hike would ‘count’ as our exercise for the day.
The most unusual aspect of the hike was the soundtrack: roosters crowing and cows mooing. Cows, understandably, because dairy farms fill the valley. The roosters and chickens are harder to wrap my mind around, because on both Maui and Kaua’i the chickens are wild. Yes, wild.
Mama and babies
No matter where you are, on a kayak paddling down a river, in your room at the resort, on a sunset cruise, roosters all over the island(s) are staking their claim with cries of ‘Cock a Doodle Doo’ – morning, noon and night. We even noticed the following headline on the front page of the local paper on Kaua’i: What’s Up With the Chickens? Indeed! If you want to know the full story, read this article from Go Visit Kaua’i.
Waimea Canyon (Kaua’i). This is called the Grand Canyon of Hawaii. Some of the canyon is lush and green, and other parts are more like the actual Grand Canyon. We spent a morning driving up onto the rim of the canyon, stopping at various view points.
Lush valley of Waimea Canyon
Hazy mist burning off in the morning sun
A girl with a view
And at one lookout I noticed this sign, covered in stickers by people who were clearly ignoring, well, the sign.
DANGER!
At the top of the canyon, we headed off road to take on a 1.5 mile hike. The landscape was lush, and diverse.
Gnarly
conifers on Kaua'i
And then the trail started to disappear. We turned around not long after this.
LOST!
We read later that people have gone missing in Kaua’i because they get lost on hikes, think they are walking on solid ground, but are walking on outcrops of plant life that overhang canyons, and then fall down cliffs and die. Yeah, glad we turned around.
Back at the car, there were more fowl.
Cock a doodie!
We kept driving, and at the very top of the canyon is a view of the Napoli Coastline. Just gorgeous!
Napoli Coast
View from Waimea Canyon Lookout
As well as the outdoor adventures that took us to great heights, we were also living the ‘high life’. Our room at the Marriott Kaua’i was a beautiful suite with this view of Kalapaki Bay:
Kalapaki Bay
View from our room
Yes, beautiful. Even with the sound of roosters.
Next post: Hawaii H2O
back on the horse
On Saturday, April 4th, Ben and I made the drive from Vancouver to Whistler in good time, despite the copious roadworks. Our accommodation in Whistler was ready for us at 9am – 7 hours before check in – which suited us perfectly, because we could change for the slopes in our apartment rather than the car park. The sun was warm, and the day would yield blue skies, which was stark contrast from the -12C weather I’d experienced my first time there in 2007. We had prepaid our rentals and ski passes, so were geared up and ready to ski by 10:30am. Not bad for leaving Vancouver at 7:30.
The only thing tainting a perfect morning was my nerves. I always get a little nervous before skiing, because I am relatively new to it, but these nerves were making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the steep runs of Whistler Mountain. I haven’t skied many places, but when I skied Whistler in 2007, I felt liked it kicked my butt. The green runs were steeper than I had experienced before and the bottom half of the mountain was icy, which means a novice spends more time slipping and sliding than skiing.
“Are you okay,” asked Ben, noticing my apprehension.
“I feel like I did right before we went sky diving.” I wasn’t kidding, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not talk myself out of that fear.
We rode the gondola to the top of Whistler and Ben had already said that he would ski part the way down with me on the green runs ‘to warm up’. I was happy with that, and by the time I was actually standing on my skis and could see the powdery snow, I was feeling more calm. The run started well, mostly because I have had quite a few more hours on skis since my first time at Whistler. Add to that the gorgeous weather, powdery snow, and a grinning boyfriend skiing next to me, and my nerves dissipated. “I can do this,” I thought as I handled slopes that would have scared me not too long ago.
Then it happened: I started having fun.
I let myself pick up speed. I tried more parallel turns (nearly there), and I took bigger chances than I usually would. I was loving it, and even laughed off a clumsy fall, which happened when I overturned and headed down the mountain backwards. I also managed a terrific parallel stop which amazed me. I didn’t know I could do that!
Ben skied off in between trees, because he can, and was pulling off a spectacular cross-country maneuver when the edge of my uphill ski clipped something hard, crossed over my other ski and I fell face forward down the slope. I put my arms out to break my fall, and ‘pop’ went my right shoulder, which is a horrible sound to hear when you fall. More horrible was the pain that shot from my shoulder to my neck and down the length of my arm. I rolled onto my back, and lay there, swearing. The swearing part was involuntary, because it was the kind of pain that makes you feel a bit nauseous.
Ben came back and helped me to my feet. He retrieved my wayward ski and helped me back onto it. He wiped off the outside – and inside – of my goggles, and I reassured him that I was okay to keep going. I cursed my clumsiness, and we got back to the business of skiing down the mountain.
The thing was, we had skied most of the soft, powdery snow. Fairly soon after my fall we hit the mid-mountain runs which were icy and more steep than those at the top. And not only did my shoulder hurt, I also started to feel the after effects of the fall. Physically, the adrenaline was wearing off, and I became shaky and weak. Mentally, I lost my ‘mojo’. All confidence was gone, and when we turned on to trails I previously would have attacked (in my clumsy, novice way), I was scared again.
We got to a major junction where Ben could get on a ski lift to more challenging parts of the mountain. I kind of begged him to ‘go on without me’. I wasn’t being dramatic. I just didn’t want to completely fall apart in front of him. He seemed disappointed, and I wasn’t sure at the time whether it was ‘for me’ or ‘in me’, but perhaps it was a little of both. He got in line for the lift, and grateful to be on my own, I continued on my way down the mountain. ‘Snowplough’ featured heavily on my descent, even though I have been beyond that for some time now.
I skied 2/3 of the way down, and came upon a gondola station where I could ride the rest of the way to Whistler Village. As I leaned against the bench in the gondola I let my tears of frustration fall. I had a stern ‘get back on the horse’ talk with myself, and I knew that if Ben was disappointed in me – even if only a little – it could not compare to how annoyed I was at myself.
At the bottom of the mountain I splashed water on my face, looked hard at myself in the mirror and shook off my feelings of self-derision. I killed time before lunch with Ben by mooching about shops, and when I entered l’Occitane, I was greeted by three Aussie accents. I spent about half an hour having a chat with lovely young ex-pats who were good company, and let me try lots of different products. When I left for lunch I was feeling – and smelling – better.
Over lunch, Ben and I decided that we would start the next day by riding the Peak to Peak gondola that runs from the top of Whistler to the top of Blackcomb Mountain. There were green runs from there all the way down Blackcomb, so I could rest up for the rest of the day and then start fresh in the morning. I was committed to getting back on the horse. I spent the afternoon alone, but not lonely, nursing my aching shoulder. We then spent a lovely evening which included the resort’s hot tub, drinks by the fireplace of a wine bar, and a gourmet Japanese dinner.
I slept carefully, mostly on my left side, keeping my right arm close to me like an injured wing. When I woke on Sunday and tried to do something simple, like pushing the covers off me, I knew I wouldn’t be skiing that day either. My should and upper arm hurt worse, and showering, drying myself and especially getting into a turtleneck all presented challenges and required help from Ben. To put myself, a relative novice, on skis for the day would be irresponsible. Damn it!
I thought of wasted money and wasted opportunities – to ski again with Ben, to improve my turns, to ski under blue skies. I so desperately want to get past the part where skiing is somewhat challenging and even a little scary and onto loving it. It did occur to me to stay in our lovely apartment and read, but that thought did not last long.
I suited up for a day in the snow, and rode to gondola to the top of Whistler with Ben. We then boarded the Peak to Peak gondola, which holds the record for the longest span between towers (3 kms).
The ride gave us incredible views, including those from the window in the floor of the cabin.
Once on top of Blackcomb, I took a few shots and Ben kissed me goodbye before skiing off.
I headed indoors for a hot cuppa. I wrote most of this post in a notebook while I sipped a hot mocha and looked out at a breathtaking view.
When the table next to mine filled with three families who shared a total of seven children under six, I made a beeline for the door. (I knew I could not listen to much more whining about who got the most M&M’s.)
The ride back across the Peak to Peak was just as enjoyable, and I met a lovely Mexican couple who put me onto Arnica (a natural remedy) for my shoulder. I sought it out when I got to the base of the mountain, but two days later am still achy and sore. More rest, some anti-inflammatory pills, and keeping up with the Arnica will hopefully have me back to boxing class next week.
The rest of our time away was wonderful. We had evening drinks outdoors because the weather was so mild –
and took a morning walk along a trail through the woods before we left.
I got over the disappointment of not skiing, and am keen to hit the slopes again soon – mostly likely in Washington, if we can make time before the end of the season. My turns are coming along, and I really want to get better. I will ski Whistler again some day, but for now she remains the victor. She is beautiful, but she kicked my butt again.
What’s that aboot?
We spent the weekend in Vancouver, Canada. I need to make that distinction, because there is actually a Vancouver in Washington State. We discovered this as we sat in the car at 6:40am on Saturday morning, trying to input a Vancouver address into the GPS to no avail. We were due at 10am to claim a ‘prize’ we won at a recent travel show. The prize – a trip to Las Vegas for two, including flights and accommodation – comes with the catch that we must endure a 90 minute timeshare presentation. That’s it. We were both adamant we could sit still long enough to claim our prize, and then have the rest of the weekend to get out into a favorite city.
Back to the car at 6:40am on Saturday: the address didn’t compute because we are actually expected in Vancouver, Washington, three hours to the south. Vancouver, Canada is three hours to the north. Bugger! We laughed about it. I had gotten up at 5:45 to shower. So there we sat – do we drive down to Vancouver, Washington (probably not as enticing as the one to the north) to keep our appointment? Or head north where we had a hotel room booked, and the expectation of a fun weekend.
We headed north. And called the timeshare people from the road.
A treat when we arrived in Vancouver was blue skies and a mild sunny day – the first I have ever experienced there. I suggested we drive up to Grouse Mountain, about 20 minutes out of the city. The drive there took us through Stanley Park,
and across the Lion Gate Bridge.
It was a busy day at the base of the mountain, which was understandable considering there is skiing and snowboarding up there, and the weather was beautiful.
The cable car ride takes 6 minutes.
At the top, we walked into the bistro just as it opened and claimed a table by the window. I had never seen Vancouver from this height, as the last time I had been up the mountain (last year with Lara), it had been cloudy and rainy – and dark!
But Saturday was perfect and we could see the city laid out before us.
We ate a leisurely – and early – lunch of burgers, and chased it down with a delicious BC Pinot Blanc. We have tried this varietal a few times now, and it is well worth a sip – or two.
Back on flat ground, we checked into the Hyatt, mooched about for the afternoon – including a trip to the hotel gym – and then headed out for an early dinner at Wild Rice. Early lunch = early dinner. We loved the food there, except the spring rolls which were flavorless and oily. We sent them back. BUT the Kung Po chicken was inspired, the salt and pepper squid rivaled that which you can get in Sydney, and the hot and sour soup was hot – and sour! Delicious. We also enjoyed that all food was brought to the table in serving dishes, so we could serve ourselves. Overall, well worth a visit, and is a runner-up in the ‘Best Asian Dining’ 2008 in Food and Wine Magazine. But seriously, the spring rolls need attention.
Breakfast the next day was a special treat. We headed two blocks away to Caffe Artigiano, where I have previously had the best coffee EVER.
Muffins and a bowl of smooth, hot, creamy coffee. Heaven.
“You brought reading material,” commented Ben when returned to the table with our coffees. The coffees were huge, and I knew we’d be there a while. WIRED for him. SELF for me. We sat, we supped, we read, we smiled at each other across the table in silence while we enjoyed our breakfast. “That as so good, I kinda want another one.” I knew what he meant. We could easily have killed another hour with another cup, but we needed to check out of the Hyatt.
Our last outing for the day after checking out, was to head to the Vancouver Art Gallery.
I know Ben loves contemporary exhibitions, and they also had a Canadian Impressionist exhibit I wanted to see. The Impressionists didn’t disappoint, and there were some extraordinary pieces, but the collection became somewhat repetitive. more interesting were the second and third floors, filled with contemporary pieces and installations.
I was struck by this:
It is “Skull 2008″ by Kristi Malakoff, and is 12 feet tall. It is constructed of 12,000 paper flowers, which are photographs she took, cut out and then assembled onto this wall.
Here is a detail:
Those flowers are 2-dimensional, even though they do not look it. It was my favorite piece of the How Soon Is Now collection. There were many that left me cold, however. And wanted to ask, “Really?” One installation was 6 panes of glass lying on the floor. That’s it. So, in the spirit of ‘art is subjective’, I created some of my own. Here are three pieces inspired by simplicity.
ROTUND(a)
GOING DOWN
TOPSY TURVY ESCALATOR
Okay, maybe I am being a little facetious, but 6 panes of glass? Perhaps it was left there accidentally by construction workers. Someone puts a rope around it, and it becomes art.
Outside the gallery is this:
It is the Olympic countdown clock. It should say at the top, ‘this clock will self-destruct in…’, because BC – like many Olympic sites before them – is going into massive debt – to the tune of about 8billion dollars – to meet their Olympic obligations next year. I realize that because the U.S. government is throwing around figures like 782billion, that 8billion doesn’t sound like much, but it is. I do suppose that if we are still living in Seattle this time next year, it is very likely we will do our bit to help refill the coffers.
Our trip back to the United States took a bit longer than our journey to Canada – by 2 hours and 30 minutes, which is the amount of time we waited at the border.
People got out, played some ball sports, and the atmosphere was generally more festive than any other delayed border crossing I have experienced. The North Americans are a little blase about the whole border thing, I have to say. It will get more strict in June when you need more than a Driver’s License to cross from one country to the other, but my experience of border delays is ‘stay in the car, and do not make a peep’. Not so yesterday…
Ben stretching his legs.
When we eventually got up to the border, expecting to contribute to the delay for those behind us, we were waved through after a cheeky border guard asked if I was trying to smuggle in Vegemite. I played the role of the charming Aussie girl, Ben the chuffed boyfriend, and we were on out way.
Because of this huge delay, I had resigned myself to the fact that we were going to miss the start of the Oscars – the part with the big song and dance number. I am such a Hugh Jackman fan too. But no. As if by magic, out of the 100 channels we subscribe to, our TV was set the right one (ABC), so when we walked in and turned it on – about 20 minutes after it started – we could ‘rewind’ to the beginning and watch it delayed. SIGH. It was a brilliant end to a brilliant weekend.
Thank you, as ever, to my best friend, Ben, who makes sitting home on the couch as fun as a trip to another country.
Oh, and the title of my post? Just a little nod to our friends to the north. That’s what that is aboot.
An Inconvenienced Truth
March 23, 2009 at 11:29 am · Filed under Autobiography, Commentary, travel, Travel Biography and tagged: Flying, travel, traveler, United Airlines
I am not a good traveler. There it is: the truth. In my head I could win the Amazing Race. In reality, the first time we (my imaginary race partner and I) missed a plane I would shed hot, frustrated tears and settle into a pissy mood that would last the whole episode.
Last Sunday I missed my flight to Vegas.
It was not my fault, but a comedy of errors performed by United Airlines. We spent two hours on the tarmac before takeoff from Seattle en route to San Francisco. Then in SF, where at least a third of the plane was connecting to other flights, they told us the wrong gate for the Vegas flight. It was 75 (right next door to the gate where we landed), not 79 (on the other side of the terminal – and a long run with hand luggage).
By the time I realized the airline’s error, I had missed the Vegas flight. When I was informed that I could squeeze onto the next flight, which was in four hours, I was less than delighted. Four hours when you’re flying from Seattle to Vegas is longer than a direct flight takes. Irony tastes even more bitter when you’re faced with airport food rather than a meal cooked by your mother.
I asked for a meal voucher to make up for being inconvenienced. “I wish I could help you, but our airline stopped issuing meal vouchers for delayed passengers last year. Sorry.” I believed that he was sorry, and then I did what any sane and reasonable adult person would do. I cursed under my breath, and then I cried hot, frustrated tears.
As I walked away from the service counter, I wondered how in the hell I was going to fill four hours in stupid, boring , horrible San Francisco airport (to be fair, I would have thought that about any airport under the circumstances). I continued to curse to no one in particular, because cursing is my pressure valve. There are times when it is the only way for me to regain my equilibrium. I may have looked like a crazy woman wandering the airport muttering to myself with an angry look on my face, but it was not long until the cursing did its job and I felt better.
I fixed my face, bought some more magazines, and braved the airport food court for dinner.
That killed a whole hour.
Skipping ahead to the return flight: different airline, on time, seated in an exit row. Feeling good about getting home to Seattle. Two new magazines to read. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be turning off the cabin lights for take off and the duration of the flight. However, if you would like to continue reading, there is a light above your head.” No reading light. Broken.
The man next to me noticed my small predicament, and said he would turn his light on so I could see. He did, and then promptly broke it while trying to angle it towards me. “Oops,” he said as the light went out. “I suppose they don’t move.” It was a sweet gesture. I stopped the flight attendant and asked if they had a flashlight I could borrow. “Sorry, no.” I suppose they need those to be fully charged and working in case there is an emergency more pressing than my broken reading light.
I soon realized, however, that if I leaned all the way forward, resting my head on the seat in front of me, and angled the page towards the aisle, I could make out about a third of the text. It grew tiresome.
We landed early (Hooray). We waited forty minutes for our luggage (Boo!). And as I stood there at 10pm alongside a baggage carousel that remained stagnant, and looked around at other annoyed passengers, I started to question the whole, ‘I am a traveler’ thing.
This brings me back to my opening: I am not a good traveler. Actually, it is just that I hate flying. I have said this before, I know, but the hatred is starting to overshadow the excitement of going somewhere new. The whole flying thing is much better with Ben by my side. He is a great travel buddy. Mainly because he humors me when I behave like this.
But also because he is far more laid back about delays and little inconveniences. When we’re delayed and we’re together, we play Yahtzee or Peggle (the world’s greatest electronic pinball game). He keeps me grounded when we’re grounded.
So all of this begs the question: Am I a bad traveler, or is it just the transit that gets to me? Maybe I am just a bad ‘transiter’.
Once I get to where I am going, I am just as amenable to sleeping in a rustic cabin as a five star hotel. I will gladly climb, hike, swim and cycle my way around the wilderness. I happily drink with locals and share my table with strangers. I love to explore tiny curio shops, galleries and museums in tiny towns. I like to eat, try and experience new things. I equally appreciate the majesty of nature and architecture, and I am all about learning some of the native language.
Phew! I am still a traveler. I just don’t transit so well.
Next post: When Venice isn’t Venice.
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