tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74241943149014608792024-03-12T18:38:37.834-07:00Angspar On the MoveAngsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-74425134987364956872018-07-13T05:24:00.000-07:002018-07-13T05:24:51.850-07:00Le Montréal de ma familleA a visitor to Montreal in 2018, I have experienced a lively, urban- cosmopolitan city. Cool technology, amazing architecture, shopping and gastronomy. Really all the reasons I like to travel.<br />
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But this visit wasn't just for modern day Montreal, I came seeking the Montreal of the late 19th century and early 20th century. The Montreal of my ancestors, my immigrant ancestors, the Sandersons of Ireland and the Mackisocs of England.</div>
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My family at one time was many extended grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, Christmas Eve 40+ would cram into my great grandparents Detroit basement. But time moves on and with the death of my grandfather, my family through moving, marriage, divorce and death had dwindled to just my mother, my brother and I. Missing my grandparents and a new receptionist at work sent me on a genealogy research path that would encompass the last 20 years. Sometimes I feverishly troll the internet and then months go by before I start to pick it up again<br />
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I was lucky, I knew both my Mackisoc great grandmother and Sanderson great grandfather. She of poor eyesight and poorer hearing still jumped rope with her great grandchildren and let us play beauty shop with her as the unfortunate client. He could build anything and today I have several pieces of his furniture in my home, even in his early 90s he was a card sharp, you didn't want to play the wrong card in Euchre. But from the time I was born til their deaths a year apart when I was 18...that is what they were to me, lovely old people who lived with my grandparents. </div>
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Of course any adult will tell you they lived a life well before the kids came along. It would take their deaths and the deaths of my grandparents to encourage me to start my own family history search. I wanted to know about them.</div>
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I luckily early on my genealogy research I met extended Mackisoc cousins. I learned of the family's long struggle with poverty in England and their immigration to Canada. My great grandmother was one of 6...most who were alive when I was a child. I knew of their home in Lachine and burial in Lakeview Cemetery in Pointe Claire, Quebec.<br />
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My great grandfather, Charles Sanderson was a total enigma. I have a photo of him in a kilt in WWI, I assumed his roots were Scottish. It took a chance meeting with a many times removed cousin who casually said, "Scottish? No, I don't think so. Grandad (my great great uncle) always said we were Irish.</div>
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I located my great grandfather's birth certificate, and through that the name of my 2x great grandfather, also Charles Andrew Sanderson. I located Charles as a boy on Canadian censuses and his parents Alexander and Fannie ....of Ireland.</div>
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On again and off again I would search for this mysterious Alexander Sanderson. What I had to go on from the censuses was slim( so I thought) their names, their religion (Anglican) an address in Montreal (145 McCord) ,nationality, (Irish) and a census enumeration place. Faubourg Ste. Anne, and occupation, laborer.</div>
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Two weeks ago as I was getting ready to visit Montreal, I checked my research for Alexander et.al I would like to visit the neighborhood they lived in. I went to google maps, typed in 145 Mccord, nothing. I double checked the address, it was correct. I googled the enumeration of Ste. Anne and found it located in an area, Griffintown. More search and another kind researcher had posted the modern day street names in Griffintown, McCord is now Montagne! I google earth, Montagne and I see....a very rundown house/warehouse in what looks to be a pretty rundown area. The internet tells me Griffintown was once the docks area of Montreal, an enclave of Irish immigrants. Griffintown, McCord Street go on my list of places along with my Mackisoc addresses I knew from growing up we'll check this out on our trip.</div>
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I decided to check one other website typed in Alexander's name and a link to genealogy gravesites comes up, gives the name of the cemetery he is buried in Mount Royal. I reached out to the cemetery, Tyler responded with a map of the cemetery showing the gravesite. I knew where my Mackisoc relatives were buried, emailed Lakeview and received the section and location. All set for the search!</div>
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On a walking tour of Montreal, I was strolling with the guide. She did the usual, where are you from, why did you decide to visit Montreal. I casually mention my English ancestors and Lachine...and then Irish and Griffintown...that's where my whole trip turned upside down. Megan stops the tour and moves the group to a shady spot. She says I am going to tell you the history of Griffintown and the Irish immigrants who lived there. Did you know the city of Montreal from the 1830s to the turn of the 20th century was built on the backs of the Irish from Griffintown? Buildings, streets, and they dug by hand the Lachine canal? They unloaded the ships at the docks and they lived near the docks as well. Griffintown was so rough no Montreal policeman would go there, in the spring because of the winter icejams, Griffintown would flood to the third floors. Before they arrived in Griffintown the Irish fated no better. With the potato famine, the English were eager to move the Irish to Canada. Boats laden with raw materials from the new world used to be sent back with lumber for ballast...the Irish people were sent instead crammed into the holds live cargo in the place of lumber. A discussion the following day with a Quebec City tour guide confirmed the above with this ominous coda. </div>
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"You know the English gave the Irish during the potato famine two options. Stay and die of starvation or get on a ship bound for Canada the so called famine ships."</div>
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Bright and early we arrived at Lakeview cemetery. After walking section G gravesite by gravesite it became apparent my Mackisoc great parents were either not buried in the section or their headstones along with toddler Alice were missing. The same was true for the family homestead on George 5, number 158 was now a field surrounded by a chain link fence. Lachine is becoming gentrified. We headed over to the Lachine canal and marveled this very large body of water was dug by the hands of Irish immigrants. </div>
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Feeling a little dejected, we turned towards Mount Royal, the mountain Montreal is named for and its hill top cemetery. We drove through the gates and realized this was an enormous cemetery. We found section G4 in a shady spot almost to the very back. We parked and I told David "After Lakeview and graves that were 60 years old missing, I am highly doubtful we will find one that is 137 years old. I looked at the map of the section and counted 6 'rows' back. We walked in the center and started counting rows. I just got to 6, looking down and I almost stumble into a very large monument. I see Sanderson at the bottom and this side says Frannie. I looked and looked again...then started yelling for David. Running around the other side...Alexander died 1881 and Charles 1925 my 3x great grandfather, my 2 x great grandfather. My 3x great grandmother and their infant daughters Bessie and Elsie. We took photos and rubbings of the text too worn. I have seen in movies and TV shows people talking to headstones and always thought it was over dramatic. But in that moment, I started babbling, thanking them for all their sacrifices for our family. I told them I was their 3x great grand daughter. I told them about my brothers children and my cousins and their kids a soldier a student at Alabama and my niece and nephew who liked music and camping. I was laughing and crying and shaking.</div>
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We visited Griffintown and their street MxCird (modern day Montagne). Like Lachine Griffintown is being gentrified...Alexander and Frannie's house has recently been bulldozed. We had better luck at the church he was buried at,and to bring everything full circle, where Matilda (English immigrant) married Charles (grandson of Irish immigrants). Today the church is a homeless shelter, the manager welcomed me as I took photos and explained why I was there. He told me they were moving...the church in now upscale Griffintown had been sold to developers...condos would be built there soon.<br />
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Just before departing we returned to Mt. Royal. We hiked up to the Chalet du Mont Royal and saw the city from the mountain to the St.Lawrence river docks. From there we made a quick stop at the cemetery and the grave of my ancestors to tell them good bye and let them know we knew their story and we would not forget it...and we would tell their story to keep their memory alive.<br />
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Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-83073970301639725842016-11-22T15:45:00.001-08:002016-11-22T15:45:46.536-08:00#Andiamo16 - Roma The first time I visited Rome George W Bush had only been in office 5 months. The Italian currency was still the Lira and September 11 2001 was a unimaginable two short months from then. Early July 2001 on a Sunday night I tentatively stepped out of my hotel located near the Vatican at my friend's insistence (see my first blog post how this one walk literally changed my life personally and eventually professionally) and participated in the Roman daily evening parade called the pasigeata. As we strolled through the city finally ending up at the Piazza di Spagna, as corny as it sounds my confidence grew with every step. Rome stopped being a famous place where I would be lead around by an organized tour group - to an alive city. Alive with food, cultural and its smiling, laughing joyful people. Pasigieta literally means 'little walk'. Escaping their small apartments, simply enjoying life and family. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spanish Steps at twilight</td></tr>
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Sunday November 20, 2016 I arrived in Rome for my sixth visit to this literally 'Eternal City '. Riding the highway from Rome's Fumicino airport I was pleasantly surprised how many landmarks I recognized and as we approached our Bon Compangi and the Hotel Romanico Palace, how it felt like visiting the 'old neighborhood'. Winding our way through Borghese Gardens (Rome's 'Central Park') following the 1900 year old Roman built city wall and entering through the main gate to the city - this was as far from rural Michigan as I could get - but still seemed oh so much like home. We dropped off our suitcases and headed to our late afternoon lunch at one of my favorite ristorantes, La Lampada. The staff had kept the restaurant open just for our group of 12, fresh food served quickly and deliciously to the hungry travelers. But as much as the old neighborhood eatery looked and tasted the same - I kept looking for my favorite waiter Salvatore. My halting Italian combined with the staff's halting English explained Salvatore had retired. The business opened all these years by first Salvatore's parents, then with he and his brother Pietro was now run by Pietro and his children. His chicly specced oldest son was excited to let me know he was departing for the US next week. "Nuovo York, baby". Mindful that in late November the sun sets early in Rome, we headed to the Spanish Steps and found ourselves in the midst of hundreds of tourists.... and Romans indulging in an early evening stroll after their Sunday dinner - the pasigieta. Nothing reminds you as quickly that you aren't in Kansas anymore than strolling the streets of Rome with a few thousand of her people. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pantheon Occulus - or hole at the top of the dome</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ponte San Angelo </td></tr>
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Rome has many many treasures. Over 900 churches, 367 are historically important, ancient times, medieval, renaissance, baroque, etc. etc. etc. you will find a different age around every corner. This visit to Rome is a quick one. We'd have to skim the surface of the most important sites and promise to return another time. Private guides are absolutely worth their weight in gold, they bring their personal knowledge, education, as well as their magic passes that literally whisk you past hundreds of people waiting in line (the VIP treatment). With our two local guide, Alejandra and Francesca, the last two whirlwind days we visited: the Renaissance: Vatican City (Vatican museums and St. Peters), Ponte San Angelo and Piazza Navona, ancient Rome : Pantheon, Colosseum, Forum as well as Baroque Rome: Trevi Fountain Borghese Park and Villa. These are all favorites of mine, places I have seen on each Rome visit. By seeing these favorites through my first time co - travelers I got to enjoy that first sense of wonder, as well as better understanding of a city by experiencing it with its citizens. I was literally surprised at every turn. Like catching up with an old friend over lunch - your shared history is the start, the ways they have changed and grown... the revelation. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trevi Fountain </td></tr>
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Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-32094909296579823412016-05-04T07:06:00.002-07:002016-05-04T07:06:43.918-07:00Where History, Culture and Travel collide -- Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic from the footsteps of Columbus to today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portrait of Columbus in Alcazar de Colon - Santo Domingo</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">"In fourteen hundred and ninety - two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue". "The Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria". Was I in first grade? Fourth, fifth? Sometime in grade school we all learn about how Columbus 'discovered' America and proved the world was round. (like with most things historical , exaggeration - he landed in the Caribbean on an island he named Hispanola - today home to the Dominican Republic and Haiti). Words on page in a book. Things to be committed to memory, regurgitated for a test and then forgotten as new information comes along. Sadly not only my education but many out there as well.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Statue of Columbus - Plaza Colon - Madrid</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Colombus, <span style="line-height: 115%;">(my good friend Dr. Gary Scavnicky always reminds me his name was
'Cristobol Colon, the Columbus thing is an English re name) </span>he's still a national hero in Spain. From the harbor in Barcelona to his plaza in Madrid - he is very much a part of everyday Spanish life. In addition to a huge obelisk at Plaza Colon, a huge mural in Madrid shows a map of how he departed from Barcelona and all the trials tribulation and down right agony he and his crews faced to end up in modern day Santo Domingo, Domincan Republic. At the end of Barcelona's busy Las Ramblas pedestrian avenue, before you arrive at the very harbor that Ferdinand and Isabella waved him off from, Colombus sits high upon an obelisk, literally pointing to the new world. This was no guy on a page in a history book - this was someone who through wit, determination a little bit of flim flam charm and a lot of bravery - got on the Santa Maria and left that harbor and headed out for places unknown. I saw where he left - I had to see where he ended up.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRpZbeno0X3c0MhA6FE4VLojJ0MoYldgXH3lfGtp4E_qWeBtuZuw6M0Mwg9G9kpOkjxE9N5O090s8SkthZ4f9crg8veJSCnFNa8avuB71w8WXkIFridHDVBf2DJuAOGKQBwt2kgy-RYI_/s1600/20160428_141024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRpZbeno0X3c0MhA6FE4VLojJ0MoYldgXH3lfGtp4E_qWeBtuZuw6M0Mwg9G9kpOkjxE9N5O090s8SkthZ4f9crg8veJSCnFNa8avuB71w8WXkIFridHDVBf2DJuAOGKQBwt2kgy-RYI_/s200/20160428_141024.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Port of Santo Domingo - Ozama River</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">To get the whole picture of Santo Domingo took two visits. The first time was a guided tour with 45 other tourists and the second with only my mom and I and a private guide. We arrived in Santo Domingo both times exactly like Columbus, following the Ozama river into the city. However, instead of being greeted by curious and friendly Taino Indians, our welcome was traffic almost as thick as the early morning smog. This is a hustling and busy capital city - the river Ozama feeding directly into the Caribbean sea. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Visit one found us following our guide, a 60ish former Dominican
Navy Seal turned tourist escort, through the cobble stone streets.We were
literally walking in the footsteps of the explorer. From the banks of the
river Ozama through the ancient colonial city we saw how Santo Domingo changed
from a Indian settlement to the bustling city it is today. Winding our way through
the city we stopped at the 16th century Museo de las Casas Reales (administrative
offices of all the Spanish colonies in the Americas) and the National Pantheon of
the Dominican Republic(national symbol of the Dominican Republic and final
resting place of its most honored citizens). But for me personally, it was at
the Basilica Cathedral of Santa María la Menor and </span><span style="font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">the Alcazar de
Colon where Columbus’ story went from the pages of a schoolbook to right before
my eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWayd6rsuY-31XFioTnIKxNvnwcbVZcz9DHpD-2lXJL6E587ljXIJUfQPhv00dR3h8rAGQIbretvB2wE4t82lJT_cXxugPHudB8rkFM7ff7-f1z4qn1FjFckqrrAqorP41wG1i6N6J8RF/s1600/Columbus+Alcazar+Columbus+governer+palace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWayd6rsuY-31XFioTnIKxNvnwcbVZcz9DHpD-2lXJL6E587ljXIJUfQPhv00dR3h8rAGQIbretvB2wE4t82lJT_cXxugPHudB8rkFM7ff7-f1z4qn1FjFckqrrAqorP41wG1i6N6J8RF/s320/Columbus+Alcazar+Columbus+governer+palace.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Alcazar de Colon - Santo Domingo</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwpdp9sCoMzNOEuU8hE8XKBxauU518TDhC70kcVh4MRazdeGfDGF8YAatEEp3Fh1uvLOiqYV3Ydg99r28YXNRphfcjzhQSP1K6qMHCRbHmcQC5NfkPLyoHPKgP5ncLgmNyXuLlsn51sAle/s1600/20150505_141403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwpdp9sCoMzNOEuU8hE8XKBxauU518TDhC70kcVh4MRazdeGfDGF8YAatEEp3Fh1uvLOiqYV3Ydg99r28YXNRphfcjzhQSP1K6qMHCRbHmcQC5NfkPLyoHPKgP5ncLgmNyXuLlsn51sAle/s200/20150505_141403.jpg" width="112" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ferdinand and Isabella cross. Santa Maria la Menor, Santo Domingo</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;">The
Alcazar de Colon built by Diego Colon, (son of Christoper Columbus) is the
oldest viceregal (governor's) residence in all of the Americas. The palace over
looks the same Ozama river that Diego’s father first traversed from the
Caribbean sea to arrive in the new world.
What I found most impressive about the ‘Casa de Colon’ was that unlike
other famous residences where the family’s possessions were lost to looting,
sale or simply time and decay, the palace’s furniture was all original to the
family. A medium sized non-descriptive
chest in the corner of the dining room, was not only the highlight of the tour
for me, but my Dominican Republic visit.
As almost an afterthought as we headed to another room the guide pointed
to the chest – “Oh, that chest?
Cristobel Colombo’s from the Santa Maria – he kept his maps in
there”. WHAT???? That chest right there in the corner? Sailed across the ocean with Columbus? And since the maps were in there, he probably
touched it a hundred times a day. ...and 30 minutes later as we crowded into the cool, dark interior of the </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Basilica Cathedral of Santa María la Menor (the first cathedral in the New World), my mind was blown again. " See friends in this chapel? That wooden cross on the wall?" I took in the darkly stained crucifix. "On the day of his departure, Ferdinand and Isabella gifted Colon with this cross for a church to be built in the New World". SERIOUSLY? While I doubt I&F actually touched the cross, they might have. And regardless this cross was loaded on the Santa Maria on Columbus' voyage a gift from the King and Queen of Spain. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"> That,
readers is history come to life.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">One of the lakes of Tres Ojos - Mirador Este Park - Santo Domingo</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 115%;">Almost exactly one year later, I visited Santo Domingo for a second time. The city's past had definitely come alive for me the previous year. This time rather than have the history of our hemisphere laid out before me, I got to experience Dominican natural history and people just living their lives. Our first stop was the Mirador Este park - to specifically visit the Tres Ojos. I followed the park guide down 39 steep steps into what seemed to be cave. The guide explained it was actually a centuries old depression created when caves collapsed and filled with water. The lakes were used from the time of the Taino Indians (the native people inhabiting Hispanola when Columbus arrived) right up to the beginning of the 20th century for bathing and diving. The Tres Ojos (literally 'Three Eyes') are actually underground lakes - with the fourth 'eye' (lake) actually outside the depression but connected to the other three by an under ground river. The stalagmites and stalactites as well as the walls are an eerie white sulphor which makes the water appear either extremely blue or pure black depending on how much sunlight reaches the lakes. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mirador Este Park - Santo Domingo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Woman with bananas - Santo Domingo </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20.7px;">After our visit to the park, we continued on to the historical city center - the colonial quarter. My Spanish isn't perfect, but it was good enough to buy some baby gifts for Punta Cana friends who are expecting, pick up some local beer at a grocery store and have an amazing lunch in a 500 year old building's interior courtyard - shaded by a mango tree that was obviously</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; line-height: 20.7px;">older than that as the courtyard had been built around it.( I have to admit, I do need to continue my Spanish studies When a young woman walked past me with a rubber basket of bananas on her head, I confidently said "Es possible tocar una pintura de ti". I thought I said "Is it possible for me to take a photo of you", but actually said "Is it possible for me to touch you with a painting" - sigh). The day ended with a quick visit to the Presidential palace and obligatory photos with the Presidential guard.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Presidential Guard - Resident of President, Dominican Republic</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , serif; line-height: 115%;">It took two very different visits to the Dominican capital to really understand Santo Domingo. This is true of most places we may vacation. </span><span style="font-family: times, serif; line-height: 18.4px;">For those who know me well, shopping, eating and chatting are all within my wheelhouse, but the idea that I would willingly go down a bunch of steep, slippery steps in a cave that I later found out was full of fruit bats is probably amusing. </span></span><span style="font-family: times, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">However, if I have learned nothing else during my adventures, while a 'top 10' or 'must see' list is important to understand a place's historical significance... you must take some time to wander, to learn and like Columbus to simply explor</span>e. </span><br />
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<br />Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-19892481436786175822016-04-27T19:39:00.000-07:002016-04-27T19:39:05.061-07:00A dog in traffic, a pair of sunglasses, a key ring and an injured foot <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Oh my God! Do you see that dog? There's no way it is going to make it through all those cars to the other side". A rainy Paris walk to buy perfume turned into a horrifying scene. Myself and my fellow dog parent travelers were horrified to see a small brown and white dog dodging cars on a busy Paris side street. By only what could be described as a miracle he missed every car tire and made it over to our side of the street. The four of us along with two Parisians walking by, cornered the pup and were just starting to look around for his owner when a frantic woman holding an empty leash came sprinting up to us. The two French gentlemen took off and the rest of my party wandered into the store. I, mother of Delilah, who has tried many times to shorten her life here on earth crouched down where the woman was holding the dog and softly crying. My French is poor at best and when I haltingly tried to speak to her, she responded in English. I took the leash from her shaking hands and attempted to put it back on his collar. When I asked if it was right, she shook her head. I told her, let me hold him, and you put it on and she did. She then blurted, "His name is Henri - like your British king" (Getting a good look finally at Henri I could see he was a small and spunky King Charles Spaniel). I told her my Delilah would be the death of me too and she smiled through her tears. I sat with her on the wet sidewalk until she stopped shaking and crying. I said are you okay? She nodded and I helped her to her feet. I started to put my hand out to shake and say 'Au Revior' when she grabbed me by the shoulder and kissed each side of my cheek. She and Henri continued on their way and turned a corner out of sight and out of my life. But not out of my thoughts, they are with me everyday.<br />
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I have very dear friend, who I bonded with over a pair of sunglasses ( you can read about in under 2012 - un hombre y su hotel). He's been nominated by a prestigious website for excellence in customer service and he has never known a stranger. It's his personal credo 'Nothing is impossible' that makes Joaquin this special person. I made a private joke only for myself which I will now share with you - sometimes I say WWJD(what would Joaquin do in this situation) and when I realized whose initial that saying actually belongs too, I thought it fitting. Both believe and practice the Golden Rule - 'Love your neighbor as you would love yourself'. <br />
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"We noticed on the drive into Prague, everything is still painted 'Communist gray' ". It occurred to me as I struggled to keep up with my petite blonde guide Eva, she may be my age. This comment was probably anything but academic to her. As we walked from Prague castle through the New Town across the Charles bridge, I finally got up the nerve to inquire about her life in Prague during the time of Communism. The stories I heard of family and friends being encouraged to report on each other. Of her parents having to explain to her at a very young age, while they would listen to Radio Free Europe, they could never tell anyone about it - arrest would be swift, seemed the stuff of a cold war spy novel. And finally she spoke of the 'Velvet Revolution' waged right there in Prague. Of thousands of students, herself included going to the house of the Czech President and shaking their house keys in a deafening jingle - a demand for him to give up the keys to his presidential residence and free the Czech people. <br />
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Looking forward to finally picking up my neglected novel, I started to sink in to my beach lounge chair where my mother was waiting for me under a shady palapa. "There's been an incident" she told me cautiously (I am known for losing my cool during times of medical distress) as she lifted the bottom of her foot to show an ugly red blister open and full of the alabaster Punta Cana sand on the Monday last. Book returned to beach bag and off we walked (hobbled) to the urgent care located on our resort. An hour later, with an IV of antibiotics, more to take for the next three days, creams, gauze and surgical tape we were banned for at least the next couple of days from the beach (sand and an open wound a definite no no). Talk changed from medicine to travel and common interests and by the end of the hour visit in addition to all the medicines and first aid items - the doctor had become 'Nadia' and my new friend. <br />
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Travel not only is my profession it is my passion. I have been very fortunate to see the many wonders of this world, experience cultures other than my own and most importantly meet and know its people. It is the chance meeting of a person I would have never have met that stays with me every day. Australia, Israel, South Africa, Argentina, Italy, Greece, England, Ireland, Czech Republic, Egypt, Finland, Germany, Mexico and the Dominican Republic. These are no longer simply places on a map to me, they are the homes of my friends. This long winded rambling diatribe is an answer to a question I answer many times a year. "Why would you travel with the world the way it is? Terrorism, sickness, political unrest and etc etc etc". My answer is always the same - because it has changed me. These chance meetings of strangers in a place I would have never been, have made me the person I am today... and I will always be grateful. <br />
<br />Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-15155500858841874812016-01-02T19:44:00.000-08:002016-01-02T19:44:11.922-08:00Merida White city and Izamal City of MagicAs so many things in life do, our latest adventure began with an off- hand comment. "I am one of twelve brothers and sisters, we are all living thanks God. I used to work with my father in his restaurant in Merida,". This comment was made over margaritas after a morning tour of the archaeological site, Tulum in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. I visited the site with my family and tour guide December 30, 2014. The speaker was my friend and escort David Celis. As the rest of my family chatted and gossiped, David and I had been catching up since my last visit in 2012. The word, "Merida" made my ears perk up. "You mean the Spanish colonial city", "Si". "You really grew up there". "Si, met my wife there, got married there". "I have always wanted to see...". "...we should go some time and I will show you around". Friends as I have mentioned before, I know the value of a good guide, especially a local from the area. So that's how we happened to be on the brand new toll road between Cancun and Merida, almost exactly a year to the day of our conversation, hurtling along in the predawn light to so that we could make the four hour trip, spend some time in Merida and return to our resort in Puerto Morales, Mexico by nightfall.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pam and David Ceklis Plaza Grande</td></tr>
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Merida is the capital of the Mexican state of Yucatan (the state sharing its name with the peninsula of the same name). Merida's modern history begins in 1542 with three Spanish conquistadores named Francisco Montejo( father, son and nephew all sharing the same name) 'conquering' the local Mayan tribe (it wasn't much of a conquer. Mayan legend foretold of gods who were white that were larger than men. Spanish conquistadores in their silver armor and horses fit the bill, So the Mayans just handed over all they had). Merida skillfully blends the masculine Spanish style with the bold colors of Mexico, Lighting from the van, at the city's Plaza Grande, David knowing our interest in both architecture and history, lead us around the historical square. Merida's nickname Ciudad Blanca(white city) origin today is unknown as the city is a blaze of color. From the sage green and white Palace de Governale, (the seat of government for the state), the town hall and the theater (now gallery and retail space) Picheta and museum Casa de Montejo , the old buildings and especially Casa de Montejo did not disappoint. <br />
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In its glory days the home of the Montejo family dominated the square, occupying one half of the entire square. As the family dwindled so did its fortunes, and today the museum is only small part of the original home. The effect remains of stepping of the busy street and side walk into a lovely courtyard where the street sounds magically disappear. A small salon, dining room and solarium are all that are open to the public. What sets this home apart from other museums, everything is original. From the wallpaper to the furniture and décor, all belonged to family and were used in their every day life,<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Casa de Montejo</td></tr>
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Crossing the square we ended our visit to the historical center with the oldest building - El Cathedral de San Ilphonse , Built in the middle 1500s, you would expect the church to be dark like others of its time period. We marveled at how bright the interior was. Made out of local limestone, the interior glowed in the natural colors of white, gray and beige. <br />
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Our Merida visit ended with lunch at a restaurant that featured traditional Yucatan cuisine. Los Almendros ' menu had many delicacies , we enjoyed Salbutes (fried corn tortillas topped with lettuce, red onion and shredded turkey) Pollo Ticuleno (breaded chicken topped with ham, cheese, peas and tomato sauce on a tortilla) as well as Poc Choc, pork prepared by burying it in the ground in a clay pot, a thousand year old Mayan recipe. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">City steps of Izamal</td></tr>
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Post lunch we made a quick side trip to Izamal and its Benedictine monastery. The Mexican government has decreed Izamal to be a 'Magic City', there are 35 cities in Mexico with this distinction and Izamal is one of only two in the Yucatan. (A 'Magic city" is a small historical town that is located near a major historical site with good road access and a willingness of the population to support the project.)Winding in through its narrow streets , the town suddenly opens up to a large central square. The most surprising thing is the entire town is painted a mustard gold or as David so aptly described 'ochre'. The color makes all the natural wood and iron details stand out. Trimmed in white and crimson red the effect is dazzling and I was just enchanted. Climbing the many steps to the monastery, the town was laid out before us. The cathedral itself is currently shrouded in scaffolding as the monstarery needs major structural and aesthetic repairs. We quickly saw the interior and decided we would need to return to this beautiful pueblo on a future visit. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Izamal's ochre colored buildings</td></tr>
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Returning 13 hours after our departure, we saw the last of the Mexican sun on the sand and waves. As much as I love Mexico's beaches and margaritas its history and culture are so much more. I am always glad to take at least one day away from sun and fun to find the 'real' Mexico. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Merida archaeological museum - former Colonial home</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Rhxedj5s43gbVH_4alV3RRD3j6NVM_fRDkqQivXLa7cxuJ1yqERkiqoz9zrw8KSWl_X4LrEhrBnEN47yCiMQO7DxYGyd_u_2rf2VcNRxd2Acc05f85gmP_s0y_xaB0-V0YI8hn3JHD5a/s1600/PAMMOBILE+-+20151229_105651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Rhxedj5s43gbVH_4alV3RRD3j6NVM_fRDkqQivXLa7cxuJ1yqERkiqoz9zrw8KSWl_X4LrEhrBnEN47yCiMQO7DxYGyd_u_2rf2VcNRxd2Acc05f85gmP_s0y_xaB0-V0YI8hn3JHD5a/s320/PAMMOBILE+-+20151229_105651.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Merida City Hall</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgremK414XRQNvGvYP6lQ_zupWVhO514fJgL0Eg9vWNjCBL39_bpSYJuZSabJpQXG4xogIOlFAs_Gbg0YBptHVFd7rZprmlxQ9dWMK_pqsmap-vwK61U_2hZUm_3lFKgh7hBkXmsDUfYkuP/s1600/PAMMOBILE+-+20151229_151340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgremK414XRQNvGvYP6lQ_zupWVhO514fJgL0Eg9vWNjCBL39_bpSYJuZSabJpQXG4xogIOlFAs_Gbg0YBptHVFd7rZprmlxQ9dWMK_pqsmap-vwK61U_2hZUm_3lFKgh7hBkXmsDUfYkuP/s320/PAMMOBILE+-+20151229_151340.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Izamal monastery</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukUR428kZhhW_7nntpeOhUTea-f40zHvDWfyHeZtvxWDrFagTHJtFW9zNY9nbU-24hImZYJX6U7WYaBWDXhpKo__mcnBtMvHNR4n60cF9gX_1yY5ZTXva8xksm9lzS1Xy5NqsmGy6YHZs/s1600/20151229_115714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukUR428kZhhW_7nntpeOhUTea-f40zHvDWfyHeZtvxWDrFagTHJtFW9zNY9nbU-24hImZYJX6U7WYaBWDXhpKo__mcnBtMvHNR4n60cF9gX_1yY5ZTXva8xksm9lzS1Xy5NqsmGy6YHZs/s320/20151229_115714.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Merida Cathedral of Ilphonse</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vLj4Iy4tJrqbPzfQMnq2s4ifJChg17yJ0VyZjykgXIbArbhjIxlhuBhqA6viSItMiUn_9oYIYjIikhtJ4aajWu_ftHObuYvWPaW4f3Yd4Z0Zweof6RZulL-ZRoo5d1qmPRrTlO-sk-Ym/s1600/PAMMOBILE+-+20151229_104350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vLj4Iy4tJrqbPzfQMnq2s4ifJChg17yJ0VyZjykgXIbArbhjIxlhuBhqA6viSItMiUn_9oYIYjIikhtJ4aajWu_ftHObuYvWPaW4f3Yd4Z0Zweof6RZulL-ZRoo5d1qmPRrTlO-sk-Ym/s320/PAMMOBILE+-+20151229_104350.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas tree in the Palace of Government</td></tr>
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Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-47136790162604690182015-12-02T05:58:00.001-08:002015-12-02T05:58:20.317-08:00Holy Toledo! (Pronounced TOH - lay - doh)
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPgr6KFlPzBvwhLLf6rkuFLqFzqoxBcVf-B8fnI5pi8Cxv09ylUVAViurByKEa-oL8ZrXGDHk2m00XTUtgLISnY-zMd8IvQb9DEDa2u-Tle-fPQHhul-V287iKraFW6T90LVs3yFb8su6/s1600/20151126_100727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPgr6KFlPzBvwhLLf6rkuFLqFzqoxBcVf-B8fnI5pi8Cxv09ylUVAViurByKEa-oL8ZrXGDHk2m00XTUtgLISnY-zMd8IvQb9DEDa2u-Tle-fPQHhul-V287iKraFW6T90LVs3yFb8su6/s320/20151126_100727.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The traffic and chaos of Madrid slips away on the A32 as we
head through the Castillian countryside toward Toledo. (Confessional time, I
have chronic travel disease …Autobuscomanus – commonly known as ‘Bus Coma’. It
doesn’t matter if I am on a bus going 15 blocks or 150 miles, get me in a warm
comfortable bus seat and I am asleep within minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However like the prairie dog who pops up from
the earth to check out his surroundings, as soon as I get within a few minutes
of arrival I awaken to hear …” And that’s the entire history of Spain (or
Greece, or Italy or whatever).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I awoke
to see the medieval skyline as it came into view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped just before entering the city to
get a panoramic view. The late November palette of umber, brown and mustard
combined to provide an almost golden hue. The almost monochromatic background
made the textures of in some cases almost one thousand year old building
materials become front and center. The natural materials of rock, granite,
brick and wood stood out in the morning sun. Romans, Visgoths, Jews, Moors and
the ‘reconquistador’ Christians have all made their mark on this city.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(Pictured Toledo skyline) </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2rbHc5l10emODNi_yzn-AdpLpBqOQVhzhDSs_DTxp3XUczdmaB-bOdPkd1MxeHxZCxEONvgMVX98dhIGu-zJv8bquViPHyYsIeH-XF8_qgOtUAKS877eqJwwupK3EpkFdcxfdVru95Fr/s1600/20151126_104057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2rbHc5l10emODNi_yzn-AdpLpBqOQVhzhDSs_DTxp3XUczdmaB-bOdPkd1MxeHxZCxEONvgMVX98dhIGu-zJv8bquViPHyYsIeH-XF8_qgOtUAKS877eqJwwupK3EpkFdcxfdVru95Fr/s320/20151126_104057.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwja_KnvxbvbzQxQR8tyWSvAkCix3b5b6Cf3lX4r0CGYlwmZADjkB7iw0pE7EPUcTXPwZqTKiaJJ4XukYX9d3wwR1cjGoaFl5CXKEE9xsUWMcW2MchDxXSqBw6yCfDHSh3vGARp1lTe7r1/s1600/20151126_111759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwja_KnvxbvbzQxQR8tyWSvAkCix3b5b6Cf3lX4r0CGYlwmZADjkB7iw0pE7EPUcTXPwZqTKiaJJ4XukYX9d3wwR1cjGoaFl5CXKEE9xsUWMcW2MchDxXSqBw6yCfDHSh3vGARp1lTe7r1/s320/20151126_111759.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We had to approach the city center on foot. Unlike Madrid founded
in the 1500s style of wide boulevards that open into a multitude of squares or
plazas, Toledo is a rabbit warren of narrow twisting streets. Where each turn
provides a new surprise of an amazing door or archway or view of the valley
below. After about 20 minutes climb we reached our destination – the cathedral
of Toledo an UNESCO world heritage site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Easily visible from many points, the 13<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> century cathedral’s
spires rise majestically above the rest of Toledo. Our local Madrid guide,
Teresa joined my small group to give us insight into the cathedral’s history
and art treasures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One on one time with
someone who not only possesses the historical background but the cultural
understanding is invaluable to a traveler wishing to not only ‘see’ a place
like this but actually experience it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have found the right guide is worth the expense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Catholicism is the prevalent religion for
many European countries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many guides
relying on their own personal experiences expect their audience to
automatically understand the Catholic religion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Teresa our guide made sure as she was explaining the art or history of a
chapel or sacristy or baptistery of the cathedral also explained the area’s
practical use.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing works of art by
Velazquez and home town boy El Greco in the sacristy took on new meaning once
we realized it was the area where priests prepared for their masses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And all those locked chapels I have seen all
over Europe, they aren’t locked to keep tourists out, they are locked to keep
everyone out as they are private property.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A place for family worship and burial. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(Pictured: 1. Streets of Toledo. 2. Pam and David in front of the Cathedral of Toledo) </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqooScUMvCi5FF2wYct_R1nBCsGK0P51o7jy-IGfPWgfKvvS5zs0daFsiRloQsOW44-VTUk_xmbmJTs8LfgGo6UV1RnDWbSyLWMR61ykoyKceRO4BnDrjn07FTV5OyM1h_qLnaC9T_m-s_/s1600/20151202_080123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqooScUMvCi5FF2wYct_R1nBCsGK0P51o7jy-IGfPWgfKvvS5zs0daFsiRloQsOW44-VTUk_xmbmJTs8LfgGo6UV1RnDWbSyLWMR61ykoyKceRO4BnDrjn07FTV5OyM1h_qLnaC9T_m-s_/s320/20151202_080123.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3GM86PnpB5GGnnwftOoDmo0M6NqeCSCQpkpUSpcVCowBJdMweeanf6cTRzBvGGDyADYZpiux6MqsYUIPNbAfVjFXou7VRpraFs2CNqKa2f0PoY-c1M7kSkL7U6tep95dvS7BklKZeXdd/s1600/20151126_124155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3GM86PnpB5GGnnwftOoDmo0M6NqeCSCQpkpUSpcVCowBJdMweeanf6cTRzBvGGDyADYZpiux6MqsYUIPNbAfVjFXou7VRpraFs2CNqKa2f0PoY-c1M7kSkL7U6tep95dvS7BklKZeXdd/s320/20151126_124155.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our final stop –Pasteleria Santo Tome the oldest producer of
Toledo’s famous marzipan, located since 1856 at #3 Santo Tome Street. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to the Santo Tome website – legend and
fact about Marzipan in Toledo collide. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to the Almohad (Arabic) raids on Castilla
(the Spanish province of Castille) the population took refuge in Toledo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the cities resources were depleted and
began a great famine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Toledo
cathedral’s wealth included land and from that land great reserves of Toledo
almonds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By combining ground almonds
with fruit sugar they were able to feed the hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today’s recipe is very much as those from
almost 1000 years ago (1085 a.d.) Santo Tome Marzipan still consists of
almonds, honey and sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unlike the
multi colored Marzipan I have encountered in other parts of Europe, Toledo’s
Marzipan is primarily the natural shade of a baked almond product and the
colors of Toledo itself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shapes not
as elaborate but <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>more of a celebration
of everyday life, fish, bread and crescents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is what draws me back to Europe year after a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A 159 year old company making an over 1000
year old recipe every day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(Pictured: 1. Teresa our guide in front of a Marzipan recreation of the Cathedral of Toledo in the Santo Tome shop window. 2. Traditional Toledo Marzipan in shapes of fish, bread, chicken leg and crescent). </span></div>
Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-78568546845077720032015-11-27T15:02:00.002-08:002015-11-27T15:02:37.736-08:00 The Bull Ring, El Prado and Chocolate Madrid day 2Since our last visit to Spain my mother has been embracing her inner Hemingway. Swapping white wine for red and wishing to view a bull fight. (Luckily for me , I was reliever to find during our last visit to Spain that bull fighting is now illegal in Barcelona. The city's former bull ring converted into a multi level shopping mall.). However, for almost a century Mardilenos and bull fight enthusiasts have flocked on Sundays to the Plaza del los Torros de las Ventas just out side the city center to see if this week will the matador be victorious and be carried out through the Puerto Grande on the shoulders of his fans. Again luckily for me, this is only during bull fighting season March to October. So a compromise is met and we head out to Las Ventas for a behind the scenes self guided audio tour. (like most compromises no one is happy in the end. My mom misses out on blood and gore and I have to walk around in a place that even though intellectually I understand other cultures etc, I just see a big cow being hurt). Despite my own personal misgivings I do have to admit the 1920s structure which mixes Spanish and Moorish influences is really quite lovely. Just before we depart we are guided down to the actual bullring. Standing there on the sand looking up at the thousands of spectator seats; the residual feeling of excitement, danger and pageantry permeate the building. <br />
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An artist's work often starts out as a commission, a request to record an event or capture a person at a certain time or simply create decoration. Centuries later those humble beginnings are now a moment captured in time. A country's culture and history as told through the paint brush. Velazquez, El Greco and Goya, Spain's three greatest painters. Today Madrid's El Prado museum is home to these three. Professional Spanish historian and art historian Ivan met us at the Pardo to help not only provide historical and political context but also help us understand each painter's obvious and not so obvious symbolism. My takeaway was the literal history of a country. From El Greco who played with anatomy and perspective to create his 16th century religious works. To Velazquez painter of the Spain's golden age of world dominance and whose "Las Meninas" was considered by his contemporaries as well as those who followed as the greatest painting ever created to Goya whose personal depression combined with the horror of the Napoleon's reign of terror in Spain created some of the darkest and most disturbing images I have ever seen. These works are interesting on their own, but when combined with the historical perspective they become so much more than a canvas on a way. ...and now for something completely different - Guest blogger David waxes poetic about chocolate and churro. <br />
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<em>When I read about a chocolate/churro shop around for 120 or so years one of my first thoughts is that they must know their way around a hot chocolate and a churro. I have my trusty map, old school with the hard copy version and marker colors to light my way, and I am off to see what generations of fuss is all about. Walking along the narrow street, Calle de Arena, I hear the sounds of a man's voice and reggae. At first I think it is a record then I realize it is his voice, where is Gwen Stefani, Blake Shelton, Adam Levine - at least two of them are probably together somewhere in St Bart enjoying their new love - but I degrees. The mans voice, that's right, is very good and the song catchy. I turn down an alley where the Chocolateria is found but first another surprise a bookstore, but not the B & N produced option but instead the outdoor old world Paris version - I know more about rare books than you do - where the smell and the feel is intoxicating and oh yes there are rare books and of course postcards. Moving down the alley San Gines I see the light at the end - the Chocolateria San Gines since 1894. The shop is bustling and the crowd thick excited to have churro and chocolate hot. Mike and I place the order. I am about to espouse my best Spanish order phrases and the lovely lady behind the counter stops me. She says, "Dos Chocolates y unto churro y unto expresses?" I am amazed and say, "Senora, you are a mid reader." She smiles and we sit. As I look around it does also strike me that the green and marble tiled shop is quite efficient in all phases of operation not only in reading my mind. Well staffed, placement of materials and supplies with a reach, and energetic. The feel is that you will not only enjoy this but you will not wait long and not want to anything. I suppose they have seen it all in a hundred years. The hot chocolate and the churro were certainly to write home about - maybe we do not do that anymore - there is only writing in blogs or on Facebook - but that's another blog I think. However, the facet of the experience that stays with me is the overall efficiency and attention to detail. I can certainly see why this place is a staple of life in Madrid and has conquered time. </em><br />
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Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-61960339596633134782015-11-24T14:09:00.000-08:002015-11-24T14:09:00.719-08:00De Madrid al CieloFrom Madrid to the sky. The EU's capital city shone in the sun as we set out for our orientation driving and walking tour. (Pam's travel tip, if you have a decent size group inquire about a private tour. Our private tour cost only a few dollars more than an offered tour where we could be joined by up to 30 others. It's a cost effective way to see what you want to see on your time table).'<br />
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Las Ventas at the Plaza del Toros was our first stop of the day. Madrid's bull fighting ring built in the 1920s has a definite Moorish influence in the brick and tile exterior. Theresa our private guide explained the significance of the many statues and monuments dotted through out the square. Memorials to fallen and retired bull fighters, the bulls and even a monument of a bullfighter thanking Dr. Fleming, for inventing penicillin and saving more lives of bullfighters who without antibiotics would perished from infections than actual wounds inflicted by bulls.<br />
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As a seasoned traveler and travel agent, I am always astounded by those who tell me: "I don't need a tour, I am going to download an app." Or "We watched a video on YouTube" or "I have a guide book, I'll just read about it there". Technology can never replace a local guide, period. Traveling is all about going to a new place, and while technology, guide books, maps etc, it is the local guides whose daily life in the city you are visiting provides the local flavor and culture that in my opinion should be the goal of any traveler. Christopher Columbus proudly looks down from his perch high top Plaza de Colon and is noted in every guide book and map we brought with us. Theresa lead us down several steps underneath the plaza to the Nacional Bibleoteca where Columbus's departure and subsequent discovery of the new world was displayed graphically. It was easy to see that while three ships departed from Spain only two remained. And how those two ships returned to different ports based on the prevailing winds. It also charted where and when Columbus arrived at each of the Caribbean islands. It was a powerful and interesting display of something every American kid thinks they know but is so much more. And we could have simply visited the plaza and gone on our way never knowing what was literally below our feet. <br />
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I literally knew nothing about the neighborhoods in and around Madrid. By venturing outside the city center we got to experience and see how real Madridlenos live. It also gave us a chance to see the Madrid Real stadium sparking a conversation not only about futbol, but about a local brewery Mahou whose delivery truck was unloading cervesa for the following weeks match. David and several of our other travelers have a real (no pun intended) interest in local beers and were excited to learn about this 100 year old Madrid brewery. Another way that be interacting with a local person we learned so much more than the guide books and apps could provide.<br />
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Our final hour of our private Madrid tour was on foot, in and around the Gran Via where our hotel is located. Not only did we visit all the major sites of the Palacio Real (Royal Palace), Plaza Mayor (main square) and Puerto del Sol (Sun Gate) Theresa was able to point out local shopping areas, bar and restaurants as well as the Mercado de San Miguel Madrid's largest open air market. An app could have guided us to all the highlights of our neighborhood, but wouldn't give us the detail and experience walking and talking with a local provides.<br />
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Stay tuned for my next blog featuring - Back to the Bullring! Chocolate and churros! Flamenco and Taps<br />
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<br />Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-24405312814623646032015-11-22T23:44:00.000-08:002015-11-22T23:44:03.737-08:00Pack your patience ... a lesson long time comingThose of you who know and love me, family, colleagues, friends and fellow travelers, I hope will say I possess several virtues. Without opening that debate, one virtue we can all agree I do not possess is patience. <br />
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Travel is by definition is full of potholes and road bumps (pun intended). Months of careful planning and arrangement can be thrown askew by a delayed flight or an attraction closed for renovations. The usual patience platitudes of 'go with the flow' and ' it is what it is' has in the past sent me into a fit of rage. Friends, I am a control freak.<br />
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Admitting you are a control freak is one thing. Learning to let go over the anxiety and angst over that which you can not change is another. These lessons have come via a Dublin flight delayed 6 hours at Heathrow due to fog. Waiting for the next train in the Metro an announcement in French that obviously meant the trains were stopped indefinitely and to trudge out into the dark raining night with hundreds of work day weary Parisians. And to be told in Savannah, 'Good news! We've upgraded your room. Bad news Pauly Shore stayed in it last night and he sort of trashed it. Head out to dinner for a few hours... should be ready by then". And a bunch of other times that just run together in the life of a traveler. And I am 100% sure each and every time I was at least slightly put out.<br />
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What I failed to realize is every detour off the plan gave me another unexpected experience. The 6 hours spent at Heathrow resulted in the to this day hotly contested Scrabble marathon. Trudging down the rainy Parisian boulevard, the street lights were ringed in a heavenly golden halo. And Pauly Shore? Well nothing, it was Pauly Shore.<br />
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Today, after four hours on the tarmac at Metro airport where we not only were the wings deiced once we waited so long they had to be deiced a second time...and without leaving the gate we had to refuel. The Pam I know and love would have been on her phone frantically checking weather and estimated arrival times, calculating if we could still make our 10 am arrival. It quickly became obvious the answer was 'nope'. So I settled in and watched all the movies over the last few months I didn't take the time to see. Played a trivia game and practiced my Spanish in anticipation of my final destination. <br />
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Travel and life itself are a series of little pearl moments strung together like a necklace. Instead of grabbing breakfast and then departing at 9:45am, I found myself at 10:30am in a 10 person deep line at the transfer desk...waiting just outside the roped area was a gentleman and his Chihuahua. I smiled as I got into the queue and my smile was returned. As the line suddenly stopped I found myself right next to the dog. I asked if it was okay to pet her and he nodded. I spent the next five minutes instead of fuming in line, cuddling and playing with that little dog. As the line started to move I told them both what a pleasure it was to meet them, Now almost 3 hours after my connecting flight jetted off without me, I sit in Amnsterdam Schipol airport with a Spanish family and a nice Ukrainian man at a ING charging station. Little moments.<br />
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The rest of my travel day was fairly uneventful. I had a lovely conversation in Spanish with our transfers driver (again thank you Sra. Horning-Cline). He was so happy to have me speak to him in his native language, he gave us an impromptu tour of the Grand Via as we arrived at our final Madrid destination. Tapas for dinner (my absolute favorite) and a fairly early bedtime. Tomorrow I will report about Spain's capital Madrid.<br />
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One little postscript. Some of my new found Zen comes from my friend Tatiana. Tatiana and I on paper couldn't be more different, and I have always admired her musical talent. She is also an extremely grounded person and has been coaching me on meditation. While I wouldn't say I am any where near guru state, I think her lessons if not have made me change my old ways, at least acknowledge there are other ways. You may want to try it as well. <br />
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<br />Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-65272042692081977292015-05-15T19:21:00.001-07:002015-05-15T19:21:21.895-07:00An Architect, A Lawyer and a Travel Agent Walk Into a Bar....<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">An architect, a lawyer and a travel agent walk into a bar…
how language brings us together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b>Majestic Colonial, Bavaro Beach, Punta Cana, Dominican Republic.</b> It’s hot, Caribbean hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Salsa music is blaring, kids are jumping in and out of the very large
pool, the blenders are non stop blending Pina Coladas and Margaritas… the
typical location for a Spanish lesson at an all inclusive resort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Several announcements are made over the loud
speaker encouraging attendance. After a few minutes, it’s obvious the class
will be two; another guest and myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The class is offered by the resort Activities department.
Sporting a head full of corn rows mirrored shades my instructor ‘J’ leads us
from the hot pool edge to the shaded dimness of the pool’s wet bar. We grab
seats at one of the tables and begin. Clad in t-shirt with the resort logo and
matching shorts, ‘J’ appears to be about 25.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My fellow student, ‘D’ about the same. I am definitely the senior of the
group. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘J’ informs me ‘D’ attended the
previous day’s class. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The lesson begins with the normal ‘good morning’ and ‘thank
you’. After a few minutes it becomes apparent that both ‘D’ and I are way past
remedial Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘J’ is now speaking in
Spanish to both of us and with some stops and starts we are following and able
to contribute. This leads inevitably to ‘how many languages do you speak’. In
this group I am the beginner with my conversational Spanish and very basic
Italian, both leave me in the language dust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘D’ and ‘J’ both speak at least six languages, they have a lively
exchange in Russian. ‘J’ explains that with the recent influx of Russian
guests, the resort needed someone to speak the language, so management sent him
to an intensive 3 month Russian course. That’s when the class shifts to
something different and so much deeper. ‘J’ who at first glance is seems to be
a 25 year old beach bum, is a 30 year old university graduate and practicing architect, speaking no less than six languages. ‘D’s’ blonde side swept locks and baby face,
masks a 33 year old corporate lawyer from Kiev, Ukraine. Switching back to
English, ‘D’ remarks that Russian language, in fact Russian culture, is based in
arrogance, and the Russian hotel guests that ‘J’ is now converses with must be the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am mentally
absorbing these amazing facts (and giving myself an internal lecture about
judging a book by the cover) when J’ begins to explain how an architect is
running fitness classes, kicking soccer balls with 10 year- olds and teaching
Spanish in a pool bar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I was bored”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pushing
up the aviator sunglasses, ‘J’s brown eyes are thoughtful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My uncle owns a firm here in the Dominican
Republic, the plan was always for me to work for him. After I graduated, I sat
in a cubicle, designing mansions and large resorts like this one…60 hours a
week plus inside, while life when on outside. All I have ever wanted to do is
dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the day I run activity
programs, but at night, I dance! I perform in all the shows. My uncle only
speaks Spanish, so I still am responsible for English and French clients, but
this is my passion”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This amazing
statement is followed by “Law is incredibly boring, that is why I am not
practicing right now. I need to find what I too have a passion for”, ‘D’ chimes
in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘J’ checks his watch and immediately stands up, says goodbye and is gone, class is over. To boogie at night, ‘J’ runs Activities
programs by day. The spell broken, ‘D’ and I gather our class notes and drift
back to our respective families and loungers on the beach. I find my mother
asleep on the opposite lounger, so I reapply my 70 sunscreen. As I do, I start
to think about my own circumstances. How just five years ago if you would have
told the lumber company marketing representative in the beige cubicle that I
would not only break free of that cubicle just 15 miles from my home, but I
would make my living as travel professional. Plying my craft not in a cubicle
in Michigan, but all over the world… including a Punta Cana pool bar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-78666864581527831632014-12-07T18:06:00.003-08:002014-12-07T18:06:27.315-08:00I love Christmas (markets)<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is my fifteenth visit to Europe my thirteenth as a tour
escort. Eleven years ago on a <span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">particularly
hot and crowded summer day in Malta, I thought there has to be something better than this. Researching trip to Rome for the following year, a November departure was over 50% less than my prior summer trips. That was in 2004 and I have been traveling to Europe the week of Thanksgiving ever since. My original decision to visit Europe in November was originally financial, the reason every time since is purely seasonal , as in Christmas season (pun intended). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYs_Yi6MM-2ayCOEowVDGxOf_mPau7XRrCU19X07PYHKFjBJorzc9fAq5mM6cFyYcTNNYJ72Nj4WOYF8aD8DKlfhNpOvs-wkSC0JW7SPp0-LQGb3YQAUB6dMQS1sdNPsGk5QpK7-HYEdP-/s1600/20141128_050740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYs_Yi6MM-2ayCOEowVDGxOf_mPau7XRrCU19X07PYHKFjBJorzc9fAq5mM6cFyYcTNNYJ72Nj4WOYF8aD8DKlfhNpOvs-wkSC0JW7SPp0-LQGb3YQAUB6dMQS1sdNPsGk5QpK7-HYEdP-/s1600/20141128_050740.jpg" height="237" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Dusk was settling quickly over my last evening in Edinburgh as I trudged back to my hotel. A bright alley off the darkening Prince's street showed small huts with crafts and food. It was getting late and I didn't have time to stop; but kept looking over my shoulder at the merriment. I didn't know it then, but it was my first Christmas market, but definitely not my last. Those first twinkle lights ignited (here I go with a pun again) such a feeling of holiday warmth, I found I craved it annually. Christmas markets and big European cities go hand in hand. The best ones feature local handicrafts, food and regional mulled wine (often called Gluewhein). The clunkers (and I am looking at you Paris) have cheap plastic doo dads from China. Leather goods in Florence, woolen items in Barcelona, Fontanelli nativity figures in Rome, straw and dried fruit ornaments in Prague, they've all made their way back to Port Huron in my suitcase. As lively and lovely as those markets were, it is the markets of Germany, Austria and Hungary that truly embody the spirit of the Christmas season. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSbzedk6i7adDh9V9Z105KWHMzFEE5zEPpghmKGa7xHZSGNBIddAV6xDIzs-vqhtedIEIzyaddE7hiHksvzMz_OLmWZXzhkskeRqS9yBHCdUsg3FXW7oavMm2IKPlZ6iwaSYqX4HQn_wg/s1600/20141128_050723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSbzedk6i7adDh9V9Z105KWHMzFEE5zEPpghmKGa7xHZSGNBIddAV6xDIzs-vqhtedIEIzyaddE7hiHksvzMz_OLmWZXzhkskeRqS9yBHCdUsg3FXW7oavMm2IKPlZ6iwaSYqX4HQn_wg/s1600/20141128_050723.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Harking back to the 17th century, Christmas markets were a welcome respite from the dark cold days. The markets were also a financial boon to farmers who instead of selling their crops at local farmers markets brought handicrafts and food stuffs to small markets set up near the local cathedral. Today like in those early times German Christmas markets open the first Friday after the beginning of Advent. Austrian and Hungarian markets open earlier often around the third week in November. Unfortunately this year my Danube river adventure began on November 21st in Munich... a week before the beginning of Advent. German Christmas markets of Munich, Nuremberg and Regensburg were busy..not with commerce but with set up in advance of their November 28th opening date, we'd miss these markets by a week. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ofd3D1ezuzMpR730cBoo6fbn9VoWyLmsmcafoFYDjt3_-vdzd77udUf9VAX-tYpUgdKus4gkHsyUvR9E2VNwmAjovrSn0GkPjzFdxEgnlvQyy5M-1mTUrx-Ydh8_fPZ-90ptUgYH_FV0/s1600/IMG_7689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ofd3D1ezuzMpR730cBoo6fbn9VoWyLmsmcafoFYDjt3_-vdzd77udUf9VAX-tYpUgdKus4gkHsyUvR9E2VNwmAjovrSn0GkPjzFdxEgnlvQyy5M-1mTUrx-Ydh8_fPZ-90ptUgYH_FV0/s1600/IMG_7689.JPG" height="250" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Smokers and nutcrackers from Germany, Austrian crystal and pottery, beeswax candles and honey, handicrafts of all types, fresh greenery, and the food, good God almghty the food.</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">These are just some of things you will find at the Christmas markets of Germany, Austria and Hungary. These markets are not only a shoppers heaven on earth, but foodies and photographers alike delight in all the sights, smells and sounds (local school children often entertain at the markets - trust me you'll never think of Santa's most famous reindeer after you hear a bunch of German speaking children sing 'Rudolph'). For those seeking a culinary experience; </span></span>Gluewhein, (hot mulled wine), sausages, pretzels, chimney cakes (cinnamon dough rolled around a metal mould and then quick baked in a fire oven), candies, strudels,cheeses, mustards, as well as gingerbread cookies of all shapes and sizes. And the photographer has only to point his camera to find Christmas tableaus in every direction. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I'm still reviewing all my photos, and will post images of the loot scored at the Christmas markets I visited at Stevensplatz, Vienna, Austria, Schronbrunn Palace, Vienna, Austria and Vorosmarty Square, Budapest, Hungary along with some of my favorite photos of this year's European adventure. 2015 visions of sugar plums are already dancing in my head... we'll have to see where next year's adventures lead me. </span></span></div>
Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-14900548177485328872014-11-27T03:25:00.000-08:002014-11-27T03:25:04.458-08:00Bavaria triple play - Munich, Nuremberg and Regensberg<h3>
Germany's largest state area wise; Bavaria is its second largest state in population. The state's capital Munich, is the nation's third largest (behind Berlin and Hamburg). Nuremberg and Regensburg are Bavaria's third and fourth most populous respectively. All three cities can boast over 1000 years of history. </h3>
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Founded by monks in 1158, today Munich is a cool mixture of ancient and technology. Beer, brats and BMW, these are some of Munich's global legacy. In a two day whirlwind our time was spent experiencing Munich's more traditional side. Marienplatz the city's main square is the literal and figurative heart of the city. Museums, shops, restaurants and the city's past pinwheel away from the gothic city hall with it's famous glockenspiel depicting the Bavarian royal wedding. In the winter months the glockenspiel only performs at 11am and noon. As the crowd grew restless about two minutes after the clock struck twelve, bells began to peel, but the life size figures remained motionless. Just as the crowd was beginning to turn away, the figures began to dance and the entire crowd collectively let out their held breath. One of my fellow travelers remarked , "'Oooh' is the same in any language and culture". Our lunch at the world famous beer hall, Hofbrauhaus included: oompapa music, liter beers, sausages and about 500 Munich soccer fans singing along. Saturday wound to a close at the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viktualienmarkt" title="Viktualienmarkt">Viktualienmarkt</a>, Munich's popular outdoor market; boasting food stuffs, restaurants, crafts, flowers and greenery. The market teemed with beer drinking shoppers hurrying to make their weekend purchases in preparation for all stalls and stores to be closed on Sundays. And closed they were on Sunday. The historic center that just the day before was filled with shoppers, fans and revelers was eerily silent as we spent our final morning in Munich. With the streets virtually empty, it was easy to see all the beautiful details that make up the Marienplatz. My personal favorite, the department store windows in preparation for Christmas that depicted the land of fairy tales, by using Steiff plush animals in all size and species. </h3>
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"...If the leaders of the Third Reich were sadistic monsters and maniacs these events would have no more moral significance than an earthquake or other natural catastrophes. But this trial has shown that under the stress of a national crisis, men even able and extraordinary men can delude themselves into the commission of crimes and atrocities so vast and heinous as to stagger the imagination." Spencer Tracy as Judge Dan Haywood /Judgment at Nuremberg . I stood in the field empty for several generations now. The grandstand and bleachers beginning showing the decay that only decades of weather and neglect can show. A soft and somber voice came through the wireless headset I was wearing. "Imagine a million people coming twice a year to Nuremberg. To hear the messages of Adolf Hitler. He personally chose Nuremberg as the place to present his propaganda messages". As we looked around the empty barren place, she continued "Today the citizens must make an important decision whether to spend the 7 million Euros necessary to maintain this place for history or bull doze it all and forget what happened here." A few minutes later we stood in front of one of the wings of the Nuremberg Palace of Justice. Inside on the second floor, courtroom 600 where the Nuremberg war crimes tribunal took place is still in use today. Like Berlin, 90% of Nuremberg was bombed by the Allies in World War II. Nuremberg chose to rebuild its city to celebrate its 1000 years of history while facing head on the small but darkest part of that history. Our stay ended with a visit to the city's historic district, complete with half timbered houses and an amazing view of the city below. As I wound my way down the cobblestone street to the bus that would take me back to the ship, I couldn't shake a feeling of sadness and regret for all involved in that terrible time, those who lost their lives to the sadistic madness of a regime, and those who live with the memories every day. </h3>
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Following Monika our Regensburg local guide through the
narrow winding streets of the medieval city, it was easily apparent Regensburg
while lively had none of the crowds or noise of Munich and with no military or
political targets unlike Nuremberg, it was virtually untouched by World War II.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regensburg’s slow economic recovery
after World War II and the city’s sturdy stone construction ensured that while
in other parts of Germany the old was torn down for the new and streets were
designed to allow for motor traffic, Regensburg today remains as it was since
the 1200s. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The twin symbols of the city,
its stone bridge and cathedral began construction around the same time 1135. The
Regensburg cathedral was commissioned to give thanks to God for the city’s
prosperity – its construction took a little bit longer than that of the stone
bridge – it was finally finished in 1841 or about 600 years after construction began.
Regensburg’s stone bridge was the first
of its kind across the Danube. Merchants would travel hundreds of miles out of
their way to cross the Danube in Regensburg, assuring the safe passage of their
goods (wooden bridges being susceptible to floods and ill equipped to handle
the amount of passengers wishing to cross), bringing great riches to the city. One
of my favorite Regensburg haunts, Wurstkuchl sausage kitchen has its history
tied to the bridge. Over 500 years ago the bridge’s stonemasons and laborers
would take refreshment of grilled sausages and beer from the tavern. Today it
is a favorite with locals and tourists alike. Takeaway sausage sandwiches are
still available daily from the 500 year old kitchen, with a sit down restaurant
located just steps away serving the same grilled sausages the bridge builders
of old enjoyed. My definition of ‘sausage’ changed with my first visit in 2008.
Smaller than the bratwursts, hotdogs and kielbasa we normally enjoy from the
grill – Wurstkuchl sausages are about the width and length of your index
finger. Served with icy cold beer, homemade sauerkraut and potato salad, it is
a feast that satisfies the same today as it did 500 years ago. </h3>
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<br />Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-34587888585600438302014-11-22T16:08:00.001-08:002014-11-22T23:58:31.215-08:00I'm sorry I don't speak German<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think of myself in many ways. Wife, friend, sister, aunt, daughter, traveler, travel specialist so many things that in my mind make up me. These are things make up the present and future Pam. My past is a little more complicated. <br />
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I was born Pamela Ann Muehlhoff. (The Sparschu of 'Angspar' comes from my step father when my name was legally changed at age 9). American first and middle names with a very German last name. My father Fred was born in Detroit to German immigrants . He was definitely an all American guy with American friends who married a born and bred Michigan girl whose state lineage went back to 1837. Fred's parents immigrated to the US over one hundred years later, just before both their sons were born. My mother's parents were the fun, doting grand parents. I was less thrilled to visit my German grandparents who seemed much more serious and taciturn. With my father's early death to cancer at 34 the gulf between myself and my grandparents became wider. It wasn't that we disliked each other, we just didn't understand each other.<br />
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Travel and the wonderful things that go with it (language, culture, history, photography, gardening, entertaining and my personal favorite, feeling if even just for a little while a citizen of the world) are not only how I make my living but are my personal passions. I have always felt travel helped to make me a more well rounded person. Today, for the first time, I realized it is also a mirror to see your self reflected. Thanks to Ella Horning and St. Clair High School, I can hold a basic conversation with Spanish and Italian speakers. I can also read French and fake speak a little (all three being Romance languages). What I cannot do is, read or speak German. <br />
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Sure I know I couple of choice German words. To horrify my father's mother I would saucily say dumkoff or even scheiss. Knowing I was traveling to Germany this week, I brushed up on my basics"Thank you, good morning, good afternoon'. And that was the entire extent of it. This morning as I stepped on the elevator of my Munich hotel, a young German woman got on the next floor. I said 'Guten Morgen' and she nodded. As we stepped off the elevator she turned to me and asked (what I later found out in English) where was the breakfast room. I quickly stammered, I am sorry I don't speak German. She looked a little taken a back re asked her question in English I answered and that was the end of that. Except it wasn't for me.<br />
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"Could you tell we were American before you picked us up" I asked a Dublin cab driver once. He said 'I guessed English, Canadian or American' he admitted. Of all the places I've visited, I never thought I might be mistaken for someone else. No one has ever confused me for: French, Spanish, Mexican or Italian. I love those cultures and am very happy to visit them, but they aren't mine. After my encounter with the woman in the elevator I scanned every crowd. Now Munich is a very cosmopolitan city and there are people from all over the world. But there were also people who looked like me looked like my grandparents and even looked like Fred Muehlhoff. <br />
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I promise the next blog posting will be more of my waxing poetic about the current European city I am in and less of Alex Haley's Roots. But while I am in Germany the next few days I am sure I will still look for glimpses of Pam, too. <br />
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Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-69282465341674598372013-12-29T19:45:00.000-08:002013-12-29T19:45:20.962-08:00Barcelona - Day 1 La Rambla - November 23, 2013 Feeling a little queasy I asked, "Este es pollo?" (Is this chicken?) , "No, Senora ese..." ( I later realized the Spanish word I couldn't translate was 'rabbit'). It was 2001, and this was my second European vacation. After my first successful Western Mediterranean cruise the year before, we eagerly signed up for the Eastern Med. Three days before we had departed from Rome and were now in the Spanish countryside just outside of Barcelona. After touring the Cordorniu cava winery (Spanish champagne), our tour stopped for lunch at a local inn. As we were led to our seats I passed a waiter wheeling in a large ham...with the former owners hoof and hair still attached. The same waiter was now standing in front of me with a platter of tiny legs with tiny bones that was obviously not chicken. This was my first introduction to Spain.<br />
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As I scanned the crowd for the driver who would take us to our Barcelona home for the following week, I thought back 12 years to the single day I had spent in Spain. As a more seasoned (and I hope sophisticated) traveler, I now knew the 'ham' I had seen was an Iberico ham, net worth in the neighborhood of $1500 USD. Also, while I may be considered a 'picky eater' in the US, in my 13 years of travel I had gotten much more adventurous, having enjoyed wild boar in Italy, local goulashes in Vienna and Prague as well as blood sausage in Ireland (ok, maybe 'enjoy' is a stretch with that one). This trip was my chance to redeem myself gastronomically, culturally and historically to the Catalan capital. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwsn_8qf_NUBh5q2QF_HXA_Jn5uNCpMtln-tBNgg37lmGucF1w2qxHsQDcVQZ9AmUTtGQ6mbaoAMWd-Ym5G5vAShgqfniC1cEBSuymtPVTDUdo6bET8URYrcAoRsES_dsQuL0nypFMRgW/s1600/20131123_073045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwsn_8qf_NUBh5q2QF_HXA_Jn5uNCpMtln-tBNgg37lmGucF1w2qxHsQDcVQZ9AmUTtGQ6mbaoAMWd-Ym5G5vAShgqfniC1cEBSuymtPVTDUdo6bET8URYrcAoRsES_dsQuL0nypFMRgW/s320/20131123_073045.jpg" width="240" /></a>La Rambla stretches from la Placa Catalunya (Cataluyna Square. Catalonia a region in northeast Spain has its own language, culture and tradition. Barcelona is its capital) to the Mediterranean sea. In between is a large, tree lined boulevard designed as as pedestrian zone; cars are secondary and forced into narrow side lanes. La Rambla is home to shops, restaurants, street performers, artists and literally dozens of flower and bird stands. It is here along with Passeig Gracia, Barcelona comes to stroll. It would be our home for the next week at the La Meridien Barcelona.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunZSvhW8BaEocslYIJCO13WHpf3pdj55c5WqUPyvSz-4fQ2zCXNxzU6XT2O6xKQhjMT2V4ELjvLQufy8Np0MKoRAeoHYOl9YjErR4pd_36Bb_6EAdzFcwrFHledmARnRfrR1AqzxK6PXe/s1600/IMG_6649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunZSvhW8BaEocslYIJCO13WHpf3pdj55c5WqUPyvSz-4fQ2zCXNxzU6XT2O6xKQhjMT2V4ELjvLQufy8Np0MKoRAeoHYOl9YjErR4pd_36Bb_6EAdzFcwrFHledmARnRfrR1AqzxK6PXe/s320/IMG_6649.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIOKEb4S0Y03b03Ea-YbwNEIQV_vDqfyOUf6egFDXRutQTgp3oWQggYFj6tDsVWdH2f93_Bhc5imH1E2OaDHeY5HDFQByPBQ-5323DMFTORZwUSX5EnGnz42Y4xLd0VJ0uAkeZJazsN_W/s1600/IMG_6678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIOKEb4S0Y03b03Ea-YbwNEIQV_vDqfyOUf6egFDXRutQTgp3oWQggYFj6tDsVWdH2f93_Bhc5imH1E2OaDHeY5HDFQByPBQ-5323DMFTORZwUSX5EnGnz42Y4xLd0VJ0uAkeZJazsN_W/s320/IMG_6678.JPG" width="320" /></a>Like real estate, travel is all about location, location, location. From our La Rambla hotel we were within walking distance of the Barrio Gotico (Gothic District which housed both the Barcelona Cathedral and the Picasso Museum), la Eixample (literally 'The Expansion" Barcelona's Modernisma district with its buildings by local son, the famous architect , Antonio Gaudi), la Bouqeria one of the largest open air markets in all of Europe, as well the beaches of Barcelonetta known for its many nightclubs and restaurants located along its boardwalk.<br />
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After check in at the hotel, we headed out for a tapas bar. Tapas (or 'little plates') are prepared appetizers and are often enjoyed with cava (local champagne) or sangria - we happily enjoyed both. Feeling the effects of both the cava and jet lag, we headed east towards the Mediterranean, where the great boulevard ends. There, high on an obelisk and pointing out to sea, is the statue of Christopher Columbus. (an Italian who finally received funding for his explorations by the great Spanish King and Queen Ferdinand and Isabella, departed from Barcelona harbor August 3, 1492). I stood in front of the statue, with the same view of Columbus, towards the new world. As a very amateur genealogist, I am often amazed at all the people all over the world who had to meet, fall in love and have children so I could some day be born. What Columbus did was even bigger without him literally billions of people would never have the same opportunities I know I often take for granted.<br />
<br />Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-34974177591871443292013-10-20T15:06:00.000-07:002013-10-20T15:06:16.504-07:00My Great Homance - The Grand Hotel, Mackinac Island, MichiganEveryone has heard of romance. I am sure you have even heard of 'bromance', I have been in a serious 'homance' since the fifth grade. Yes, I have a major crush on Mackinac Island's Grand Hotel.<br />
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Right after lunch my fifth grade teacher would read a chapter or so of a book. (That was the double whammy year of<i> Charlotte's Web </i>AND <i>Where the Red Fern Grows,</i> amazing I didn't need therapy, but I am getting off topic). The book that would have the longest effect on me, I can't even remember the title. It was a young adult mystery set on Mackinac Island, Michigan. It involved a missing doll and a large fresh water pearl. That is all I remember....except the Grand Hotel. This was a fairy story I could relate to, a castle right in my home state, with the world's longest front porch to boot! Then came <i>Somewhere In Time</i>. I read the book in anticipation of the movie's release. Christopher Reeve! Jane Seymour! And the Grand Hotel! I agree the story was cheesy, but the Grand Hotel shined! My love affair with a place I had never been was in full force.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinPC5LrYn90xcBnl1dQa6IOfxaXuTEYCZom_0oUy7r91WmqjG76l_BOZPH1b1NClZLX8cuCgOHUCu_V4G6uJJMIHMI4arn6XcUJ_ZcPpWNjUwcOtrDVcYCFw2tt_6PZFvqxI2To1610agV/s1600/Mackinac+2004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinPC5LrYn90xcBnl1dQa6IOfxaXuTEYCZom_0oUy7r91WmqjG76l_BOZPH1b1NClZLX8cuCgOHUCu_V4G6uJJMIHMI4arn6XcUJ_ZcPpWNjUwcOtrDVcYCFw2tt_6PZFvqxI2To1610agV/s1600/Mackinac+2004.jpg" /></a>St. Clair County is a long way from Mackinac Island, almost five hours by car. It would be many decades from fifth grade before I ever took the 16 minute ferry ride from Mackinaw City to Mackinac Island. (Full disclosure, I was supposed to be checking out northern Michigan hotels for a work retreat. But, when I saw the sign that said 'Mackinac Bridge' 19 miles - the island's siren song was too great for me and I found myself at Shepler's Ferry buying tickets. Don't feel too bad for my former employer, I got my comeuppance and got laid off...12 years later :) ) As soon as David and I disembarked the ferry I made a beeline for the Grand Hotel. As I wound my way around Mackinac's twisty streets I could see it glowing in the distance... until I reached the sign that said unless I was a registered guest, it would cost $10.00 per person to continue. We took this photo and dejectedly headed back to the mainland and work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Nu-Xn1NOhWl7f1KO1wrO5AVzv78UIDwP3DD_YkA1GFrtNO3WPIq7eqTA6UUpJO3dyYwhCS-HGjAi33nncl6lAWEr3N5WMsNFpclzTDKjn-zxn98BBj5pirO-fF1h5Ef3LB5kDuaWZmOJ/s1600/Mackinac+20011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Nu-Xn1NOhWl7f1KO1wrO5AVzv78UIDwP3DD_YkA1GFrtNO3WPIq7eqTA6UUpJO3dyYwhCS-HGjAi33nncl6lAWEr3N5WMsNFpclzTDKjn-zxn98BBj5pirO-fF1h5Ef3LB5kDuaWZmOJ/s320/Mackinac+20011.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjBzWUU9Agub03G3r1Ty-JhubKi7LqZNi-8zs8WmcB2LGYbEtFtIPnogSImMJmm9R9SieEYDQd_cHM2cHvvfOStdaMvIcZQ0TGr2ov5hJELIjZHHcufAZKpFvhR6M7kOBvTlBEAerr33N/s1600/Mackinac20112A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjBzWUU9Agub03G3r1Ty-JhubKi7LqZNi-8zs8WmcB2LGYbEtFtIPnogSImMJmm9R9SieEYDQd_cHM2cHvvfOStdaMvIcZQ0TGr2ov5hJELIjZHHcufAZKpFvhR6M7kOBvTlBEAerr33N/s320/Mackinac20112A.jpg" width="320" /></a>As do the seasons so does life change. Several years later, my company folded and now David and I had summers off together. We decided to celebrate and return to Mackinac Island and the Grand Hotel. We saved our pennies and were able to...eat dinner there (hey at least we got in this time). After we checked into another, (not grand at all) hotel, we quickly changed and took a horse taxi to the Grand Hotel. The evening began with a stroll on the famous porch and ended with dancing to the Grand Hotel Orchestra til early the next morning. That night remains one of my personal bests. It wasn't the food, it wasn't the service, it wasn't the decor it was all of it. From the twinkling chandeliers, the ice -cold champagne, the diners dressed in their finery and the waiters dressed in their white tie and tails, it was like literally stepping back into the Roaring 20s. For one short evening David and I got to be Daisy Buchanan and Jay Gatsby! The following day, just before our departure we returned to take our ritual, half way up the path in front of the Grand Hotel, photo.<br />
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Number one FAQ for a travel agent "You get deals, right? You travel for free,right? Can you hook me up?" The answers are: "Sort of, no and yes." I do get deals, and often they are the same ones that you can get too. The difference is, I get them first. Vendors will run specials and before they publish them to the general public, they email travel agents. So while you may stumble upon a great deal on the internet, I was able to book it two or three days earlier. One Sunday this August I opened my email to find an unbelievable treasure, on specific dates the Grand Hotel was offering "Celebrate Michigan Days" approximately 85% their regular price! Included in the hotel rate a full breakfast, five course dinner and entrance to Fort Mackinac!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZtzxfSJQr7r2rufYmKlT3H6PcAGsCboYTfp4tbNX3Nzq8RbpWcwd_LwJ1Dilpk12la5YC6ruO8ZcO7bH2mU80mK8y0wCXJVr7mEd6VxIoxl-hSSH88XcCO8Xmq_RdOX16r_Z3j0WRByu/s1600/IMG_6621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZtzxfSJQr7r2rufYmKlT3H6PcAGsCboYTfp4tbNX3Nzq8RbpWcwd_LwJ1Dilpk12la5YC6ruO8ZcO7bH2mU80mK8y0wCXJVr7mEd6VxIoxl-hSSH88XcCO8Xmq_RdOX16r_Z3j0WRByu/s200/IMG_6621.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBczKnfUrCAPVWp4wUFI5igvqLPr4h0EWhFRfba4LBilvwDmLvCHk6TrpPqHHbCOXB-oumE99gSOGklBDWhN3fklPwDR1i8oTYImuItEqYBNzE6xtUlXcrhq_GePnmTgN6hxtqxYbf0vX1/s1600/IMG_6587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBczKnfUrCAPVWp4wUFI5igvqLPr4h0EWhFRfba4LBilvwDmLvCHk6TrpPqHHbCOXB-oumE99gSOGklBDWhN3fklPwDR1i8oTYImuItEqYBNzE6xtUlXcrhq_GePnmTgN6hxtqxYbf0vX1/s320/IMG_6587.JPG" width="320" /></a> There was a catch (of course), the deal was only available in specific weekday rates in September and October. David was out and my Mom was in as a travel partner. When we stepped off the ferry last week, my heart gave a funny thump when I spotted the mahogany carriage with its matching chestnut horses and top hatted driver waiting for me! Mackinac Island's appeal to me is the opportunity to travel back to a more genteel time in history. I have always felt Main Street with its fudge and t-shirt shops definitely miss the mark. However, arriving at the Grand Hotel in a horse drawn carriage, being met by a pill box hat bell hop to take your bags, followed by a champagne reception and five course dinnered served by waiters in white tie and tails is spot on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPzrnpVjOnQCnYYC7X80AnTynTFhvtJh856HjJ40hcIBfLzYJzJ2vrtiKpvHNCLbF-UNIVyqqmdc4Etukn07BPrclduiEiUo-WSC7-HVvqsZNl6dhhhbia_R6bQU5csp8WM4GdYRv6IjY/s1600/Sunset+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPzrnpVjOnQCnYYC7X80AnTynTFhvtJh856HjJ40hcIBfLzYJzJ2vrtiKpvHNCLbF-UNIVyqqmdc4Etukn07BPrclduiEiUo-WSC7-HVvqsZNl6dhhhbia_R6bQU5csp8WM4GdYRv6IjY/s200/Sunset+2.jpg" width="150" /></a>I am happy to report we made the best possible use of our time on the island. From a private carriage ride (about double the cost for two people; but worth every cent not to be crammed in the same sized carriage with 20 of your new best friends, and we got to determine the route as well), to visiting Fort Mackinac and those ubiquitous fudge and t-shirt shops. Our afternoon was spent tasting all the Grand had to offer. From drinks at the Cupola Bar (the highest point of the Grand is a 360 all window lookout, where you can see the entire island), afternoon Tea in the lobby, and finally as the sun set on the that famous porch our final five course meal in the dining room, we had it all.<br />
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A "Pam + Grand Hotel" photo as we wound our way back to the ferry dock headed home (our bags already transported to the ferry). In this photo, I wasn't on the outside looking in or on the inside but not an insider, I was a Grand Hotel Guest and I experienced all she had to offer. <br />
<br />Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-59467142119611772972013-02-25T20:18:00.002-08:002013-02-25T20:18:24.776-08:00Punta Cana, Dominican Republic - sun, sand and soul.Five million tourists visit the Dominican Republic annually, and they all seemed to be in line with me to enter the country. (You have to love a government who charges you $10.00 a person to visit their country...before they have even checked your documents.) Just after the cash is a Merengue band playing the traditional Dominican music while you clear customs and gather your bags. The sunshine, the music and the Caribbean breeze...the mood is festive for this month of Carnivale celebration in the Dominican Republic when every Sunday is a celebration of the island nation's 1844 independence from their Haitian neighbors.<br />
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<span id="goog_1480665205"></span><span id="goog_1480665206"></span>My destination? The popular Bavaro beach area of Punta Cana, located on the Atlantic Ocean. The Dominican Republic has been a tropical getaway since the 1960s when the cities of Puerto Plata in the north and Romano located on the Caribbean (south) were en vogue. But today and for the previous 21 years, Punta Cana located between the former grand dames of Puerto Plata and Romano is king. There are 54 hotel properties located in the Bavaro and Macau areas of the town...My resort is approximately 30 minutes from the airport, the Ocean Blue and Sand. <br />
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I spent the first few days of my 7 day visit to Punta Cana like most of the other 5 millions tourists (according to my Apple Vacations tour representative 85% of those visiting are from North America and the other from Europe) eating, drinking, hanging out at the beach. (I am looking to improve my Spanish so I spent a few of those hours taking Spanish lessons by the pool and conversing with native speakers). I have to admit, the above was the only items on my personal itinerary (I did inspect a few resorts while here, a sort of 'bus man's. holiday).<br />
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"Outback Safari, it is our most popular tour, you should go", said Romer my Apple representative. Now you who know and love me know 'Outback' to me is a restaraunt and 'Safari' is something you do in Africa. I politely smiled and went to change the subject when, Romer continued. "This is a chance to see the real Domicican Republic. Go up in the mountains, visit a local school. Go to a local farm and see how they grown and process the agricultural products of the country: pineapple, sugar, cocoa, and coffee." I did and I am so glad I did. The mountain back roads were rutted and very bumpy, the large jeep struggling and bucking up the mountain...once we arrived it was all worth it. Gone were the bathing suits, the fruity cocktails and the smell of suntan lotion. Cool breezes from the mountain and lush vegetation surrounded us. as we saw farming demonstrations and tasted local coffee, sugar, chocolate and vanilla all grown on the local farm. The farmers home would be considered rustic by North American standards, but it was charming all the same and the smells coming the from the detached kitchen were making my mouth water. The day ended with a visit to a public beach in the Macau portion of Punta Cana. 90% of Domiican citizens work in the tourism industry (the number one industry in the country followed by agriculure) with 65,000 of them in the Punta Cana hotel zone. Most work 5.5 days, the families at the Macau beach happy to enjoy each other's company by the shore.<br />
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During my visit I have enjoyed authentic Domincan cuisine ( dominated by beans, rice, meat and plantains), seeing the countryside; and especially getting to know the Dominican people. The history of the Dominican people is not that different than our own, native people inhabiting an area, being 'discovered' by Europeans and the forced immigration of Africans. The Dominicans however, make it work so much better. The three groups have blended over the century to create the modern Dominican. Dominicans consider themselves, 'faceless'. a true blending in harmony of their three tiered ancestry.<br />
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Well enough history and culture. I am back to the beach to work on my tan, which was my number one goal before I got here. I am very happy to report that while I may not be returning home wth a 'savage tan'. I leave with a better understanding of the place I visited. And my blog readers will know that is my favorite kind of souvenier.Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-80338021285244289092012-11-28T19:29:00.002-08:002012-11-28T20:13:58.643-08:00Au Revior Paris - Our last two days<p>Thursday evening found us on the gliding down the Seine on the Bateaux Parisiens dinner cruise. The clear, cold night was lit up not only by Paris' many landmarks, but the stars and moon decided to join in the light show.
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<p>In my research for the trip, I found everyone has an opinion on Seine River cruises. Day time cruises, private yacht cruises and the traditional dinner/lunch cruises are all available at the different boat companies located just beneath the Eiffel Tower on the Seine. You'll need to choose which one based on your personal preference (I wanted to see the city lit up at night), but make sure you do add a cruise into your schedule. It's a relaxing two hours, with both the Left Bank, Right Bank and Ile de Cite showing off for your viewing pleasure. </p>
<p>Friday morning, Paris was in another funk (hey, that's ok, with all due respect to the many many handsome Parisian men I saw, Paris is definitely a girl, and a girl has a right to be moody from time to time). The day dawned cloudy and by noon the gentle Paris mist we'd experienced earlier was now 'chiens et chattes' as we walked down the Champs Elysees towards the Arc de Triomphe. The avenue of French history (Napoleon, Nazis, Allies, etc.) is impressive with its width, high end shops and restaraunts. Its also crowded, busy and commercial. Its definitely a must see, but be prepared, in my opinion it does lack some charm, with one jewel box of an exception, La Duree.</p>
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<p>From the LaDuree website, "Ernest Ladurée’s wife, Jeanne Souchard, daughter of a well-known hotelier in Rouen, had the idea of mixing styles: the Parisian café and pastry shop gave birth to one of the first tea salons in town." With locations all over Paris, and 17 other countries, The Champs Elysees is the flagship store for the brand and was recently underwent a year renovations and was recently reopened October 17, 2012 to its 1862 Belle Epoque glory. We arrived early for our reservations to the warm, cozy, salon de the and were lead to our table overlooking the Champs Elyees below. Lunch was simply the prelimary to the Laduree patisseries and world famous macaroons. (The biggest issue, which one to choose? LaDuree boasts over 19 flavors!)</p>
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<p>On a sugar high, we decided the afternoon should end with some culture. We quickly entered the dry Metro and disembarked at Les Tuileres. Normally, I would have loved the walk across Catherine Medici's Tuscan inspired gardens, but even I hurried along the gardens paths to its former 'L' Orangerie', the building used to shelter the orange trees of the Tuileres, now housing a different type of plant 'Monet's Lilies'From the L'Orangerie website, "On April 12, 1922 Claude Monet signed a contract donating the Nymphéas series of decorative panels painted on canvas to the French government, to be housed in redesigned, oval rooms at the Orangerie.[3] With input from Monet, the head architect at the Louvre, Camille Lefèvre, drafted new plans and elevations in 1922 to house Monet's large Nymphéas canvases, incorporating natural light, plain walls, and sparse interior decoration". Viewing the 'Lilies' in the way Monet meant them to be seen, is like a virtual trip to his home in Giverny. If you take the time to visit just one museum, for pure wow factor the L'Orangerie and the Nymphéas would be top of my list!</p>
<p>Our last morning in Paris began with a stroll and ended with a sprint. We were back in the Marais, where we started our visit 7 days prior. We finally scored reservations for the restaraunt Bon Appetite and many other food magazines named 2012's 'best value' Le Breizh Cafe. We left the hotel at 10am for our 11:30am appointment a mere 15 minutes away. But, we didn't count on the Marais' weekend flea market, a combinaton of garage sale and high end antique auction. I succumbed to its siren's call and went home with two small French linens embroidered in 'moi' and 'toi' to add to my 'his' and 'her's linen collection. We peeked in the charming alleyways and the Place de Voges (the oldest square in Paris) and found ourselves almost running to make our reservation at the creperie. At 1130 the bistro was packed and the droves without appointments were sent away. It's Le Breizh's signature buckwheat crepes that keep its clientele coming back.</p>
<p>The last afternoon was dedicated to Paris' second favorite sport after eating, shopping. We returned to the Place de la Concorde in front of the L'Orangerie, but culture was not on our minds this time, retail therapy was the final destination of our Paris sorjourn. The Christmas Market located on the Champs Elyees had recently opened and most of of group opted to explore the many food and craft vendors. My husband the foodie had different ideas, so we headed to the Place de la Madelaine, where Paris' high end food shops are located. We stopped at the local LaDuree and found macaroons purchased that day would not be edible upon our return, so we continued across the square until we ran into Maille Moutard, home of gourmet French mustards since 1747. The mustard menu was amazing, mustards infused with: Chablis, truffles, fine herbes, and even bleu cheese. The choices were overwhelming, and we finally decided to buy several sample packs to enjoy at home.</p>
<p>Sunday we returned to Charles de Gaulle for our homeward journey. As we split a final macaroon, David and I agreed the French are definitely a highly envolved people. I reflected on my pre Paris jitters and realized it defintely was not my Waterloo. And like Napoleon, who was dug up from Elba 34 years after his death and installed at the Invilades for eternity, I knew I too would return to Paris.</p>
Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-42947761064010399052012-11-24T00:17:00.000-08:002012-11-29T05:06:55.386-08:00Paris in the Rain, from the Royal to the Sublime<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p>“I love to walk in Paris, especially in the rain, don’t you”? Owen Wilson as Gil Pender in Midnight in Paris says, “Christ, why does it always have to be in the rain? No, Gil I don’t want to walk in Paris in the rain”, Rachel McAdams as Inez.</p>
<p>I think we’d all like to have Gil.s attitude. And I will happily admit, after one week, I’ve started a romance with this most glamorous and sophisticated city; finding myself smiling as I walk along the Seine or when I see the Eiffel Tower in the distance or as I bite into one of La Duree’s famous macaroons. But, if I am being completely honest, in temperament I am more like Inez.</p>
<p>It was raining and gloomy the first day we arrived in Paris. But, the next two days Paris showed us her sunny happy side. Wednesday, Paris was back in a crabby mood as we crawled at a snails pace out of town towards Versailles. She was full on pissed off when we arrived at the palace of Louis XIV. The ‘Sun King’s’ home was sunny in name only that day. It was a great relief once our appointment time came and we could tour the former home of French royalty. The home back then was built to impress nobility and peasants alike; the kings private and public areas are decorated and dedicated to the Greek gods and planets they represent (Mars, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Mercury and Diana <the moon>) with Louis himself the sun and these rooms representing the planets that revolve around him. I was excited to end the kings apartments to arrive at the Hall of Mirrors, I knew I would be able to see what I came here for the gardens.</p>
<p>Shortly after leaving the Hall of Mirrors, I put up my umbrella and waded through the courtyard to see the gardens. They were everything I had hoped the would be and more. I love Italian gardens, their angles and shapes taking priority over flowers. Precision and geometry are the tools these gardeners use, the craftsmanship evident as I walked along oblivious the downpour. In my opinion Louis has a nice house but one hell of a garden!
That afternoon we spent in </p>
<p>Louis XVI’s dad’s place, the Louvre home of Parisian kings through Louis XIII. This was my second visit to the literal 12 miles of exhibit space and over 35,000 permanent collections. And like last time I saw the four main pieces: Winged Victory, Napoleon’s Coronation, Venus di Milo and the Mona Lisa. Of course I saw others as I wound my way through the corridors, stair cases, and cavernous rooms of the Denon Wing, but they are all really a blur as you try to see the major treasures of the Louvre. Here’s my shocking confession, I don’t see myself going back. Paris has too many fantastic jewel boxes of museums to spend too much time in the Louvre. Here’s a comparison, your favorite local store where they know you by name and a ‘big box ‘retailer. You may save $0.50 on toilet paper, but who cares. On great thing I did do at the Louvre is buy the Paris Museum pass. It is so cool, you get admission to most of Paris’ museums and attractions. But what is even better, when you sashay past a huge line of people waiting in the rain to enter a museum. A little Parisian rain may dampen my spirits, but VIP access perks them right up.</p>
<p>Wednesday we spent hobnobbing with French royalty. Thursday was spent with artists mostly French but one very special American (to me). The day dawned without rain, but very foggy, (unfortunately this was the day we had planned to visit the Eiffel Tower) . We arrived just after the tower opened at 9:30am, between buying tickets and the line for the elevator our wait was approximately 15 minutes. (I can’t stress this enough, if you don’t want to wait for hours and aren’t thrilled by crowds, go as early or late in the day as possible, also around lunch time can be less crowded. The tower is open 9:30am until 11pm). There are three levels with the second level providing the most intimate views of the city. Half of our group chose to go to the top, while the rest, myself included chose the second. </p>
<p>The tower is located in the 7th Arrondissemont (neighborhood), so we spent the rest of the day in that area. Musee D’Orsay was our next stop. The former train station has been lovingly transformed into in my opinion the loveliest museum in Paris. Retaining the flavor of its train station past, it picks up where the Louvre leaves off the Impressionists. Renior, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Gaugin, they are all here. Lunch and the Rodin were next on the agenda, but once we came around the Hotel de Invalides we were surprised to find most of police force of Paris there in full riot gear. (Unsettling). It turns out an Italian diplomat was in town and following our exact itinerary. Everywhere we went barricades and police vans, and police officers, ensuring this bigwig’s safety. The final straw was when we got to the Rodin Museum to find it closed (to us) and the diplomat and his entourage entering. It was a sad realization when I understood my Paris Museum Pass only made me feel like a VIP. This is how they really live.</p>
<p>The Tower and the D’Orsay were lovely, but my two favorite parts of the day were a lot less famous and a lot more personal to me. Early afternoon found me in a large, dark and unchanged since before the last century cooking supply shop located off a quiet street near the D’Orsay. As I walked through the ‘batterie de cuisine’ that let’s face it I didn’t know half of what it was or would ever use, I smiled. This was Julia Child’s favorite store in Paris. Unchanged since the days when she was a frequent shopper. I bought an apron from a salesman at Dehellrin and mentioned that one of my favorite books was ‘My Life in France’ by Julia Child and she wrote so warmly of the store, I had to see if for myself. The gentleman laughed and said he had waited on her many times in the ‘80s and he didn’t know who she was until she left one time and some Americans came up to him and said, ‘Do you know that was Julia Child?” He didn’t because Julia would never have mentioned it. As we left E. Dehillerin and headed towards the D’Orsay, we wound our way down Rue de la Universite, everyone in my group keeping a sharp eye out for #81. We found it just before reaching the D’Orsay. The three story building built in the late 1800s with the blue door. The top two floors rented by an American couple when he was stationed in Paris working for the American government. She a bride in her late 30s wanted to do more with her life than lunch with the ladies and shop, so she enrolled in L’Cordon Bleu to take cooking lessons. I may not be as romantic as Gil Pender, but I did get misty eyed when I stood in front of Julia Child’s Paris home.</p>Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-24421291223102207612012-11-21T22:38:00.001-08:002012-11-21T22:38:47.714-08:00Life in Paris and the adventures continue...
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Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-36184540607270991982012-11-20T21:55:00.000-08:002012-11-29T05:02:54.331-08:00From the ancient to the modern - Paris Days 1 and 2<p><b>Today's Paris trivia</b>- you are never more than 450 meters from a Metro stop anywhere in the city.</p>
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<b>Day 1
</b><p>Napoleon Sparschu Phillips along with her group of travelers left the Crown Plaza Republique 1 hour and 45 minutes early for a 20 minute Metro ride to the Ile de Cite(Napoleon was remembering the 'Wimbelton instead of Westminster Tube incident of '04'). Of course as many of my Francophile friends have told me repeatedly, the Metro is super clean,easy and quick. We arrived at our scheduled meeting place for our 9:40am tour at 8:20am.
There are worse ways to spend an hour and twenty minutes than stolling the banks of the Seine and people watching on the Ile de Cite.</p>
<p>I had booked a walking tour of the Ile de Cite and Notre Dame with Key Tours (I really like to use this company for sightseeing and transfers, I have never had a disappointed client). Our group met up with Adam at the Ile de Cite Metro stop. On that very spot a nomadic Celtic tribe the Parisis founded Paris on the larger of two islands located in the middle of the Seine. We spent the next two hours discovering the island from 3000 BC until the Nazi Occupation of WWII. Notre Dame was our final stop with a guided tour of the history and art of the thousand year old cathedral. How amazing it was to see the past come to life. Stained glass windows destroyed during the French Revolution, Mideval and Renassaince oonstruction techniques, the place where Napoleon turned his back on the Pope and crowned Josephine and himself emporer and emperess of France. All the ghosts and memories of 1000 years swirled around us.</p>
<p>Our afternoon was spent having lunch at a cafe on Ile St. Louis, visiting the world famous Shakespeare and Company book store and ending back on the Ile de Cite to see King Louis IX Sainte Chapelle chapel. Louis was an extremely pious man, so he had a chapel built inside his royal palace to store his relics and provide a place for easy access worship. St. Chapelle is small, but the beauty of its stained glass walls is gigantic. The chapel is currently under restoration and cleaning, the before and after is quite amazing.</p>
Day Two
<p>Our second full day in Paris found us on a private driving tour of the city. I chose this tour as an overview of the City of Light, a chance to see its famouns sights, museums and landscapes as an orientation to our follow up visits.</p>
<p>The first days of our Paris vacation were gloomy and rainy, but when our driver Celena pulled over by the Invalides the sun suddenly broke through and the Effiel Tower was bathed in a halo of gold, a picture postcard come to life.</p>
<p>Montmartre was our afternoon destination. Sacre Coeur Basillica was our first destination. Its white dome standing out against a turqoise blue sky follwed by lunch in a Montmartre cafe of beouf borganion and l'onion soupe. At Place Tertre David and I chose two oil paintings from one of the many artists painting and selling the wares in the square.</p>
<p>I am pleased to report after walking down several hundred steps from the top of Montmartre's hill and winding our way through its cobblestone streets, we not only took the Metro back to our hotel, we had to change lines at one of the stations! I am going to call it my own personal 'Arc de Triomphe'!</p>
<b>Up next Versailles and the Louvre!
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Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-26312916084024372312012-11-20T07:00:00.000-08:002013-08-08T13:44:27.415-07:00November 19, 2012 - Like Napoleon I return to ParisLike Napoleon, I return to Paris<br />
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I have a theory that every traveler has their own ’Waterloo’. A place that culture, history and even their fellow travelers rave about; but in their most secret psyche makes them feel overwhelmed and uneasy. I imagined myself to be like the great emperor, but instead of Wellington, I would meet the City of Light on my personal field of battle.Paris, world capital of: food, wine, art, fashion, culture and of course romance. The majestic city dating back 3000 years from the small nomadic tribe of the Pairisi who lived on a small island in the middle of the Seine to today’s greater Paris consisting of 12 million people with 2.1 million people residing in the city center. Readers let’s face it, the above list is the reason I fell in love with Europe over a decade ago. 3000 thousand years of history combined with the pinnacle of all modern culture, with one small drawback - the Parisians.I’m going to make a confession now. Prior to my current trip, I had visited Paris once before in the summer of 2002 for 8 hours. My tour consisted of a short ride around the city and 2hours at the Louvre. French culture was as foreign to me as Chinese. I was accustomed to the friendly and boisterous Italians, the fun-loving Irish , and the reserved but cheerful British. I found the Parisians to be cool and standoffish and in my limited exposure to the world, snobby. I felt like a fish out of water and thought that would be my one and only Parisian visit.Of course as I grew as a traveler and (I hope) became more sophisticated and open to other cultures I began to wonder if I wasn’t selling Paris short. Visitors since the time of Julius Cesar had fallen in love with Paris and all its wonders. For hundreds of years artists, poets, writers, scientists, foodies and of course lovers have flocked to this city, It took the personal Parisian stories of two women, who convinced me to give the French capitol another chance. Armed with my copies of Julia Child’s My Life in France and Eloisa James’ Paris in Love, I left Charles De Gaulle airport searching for my own Parisian love affair.
It was the twin voices of two women who lived in Paris at the middle of the last century and within the first few years of this one who inspired this journey (like Napoleon, this wasn’t just a skirmish this was a major battle).These women may have lived at different times but their interests (writing and cooking) and how they completely embraced their adoptive city made me look at (pardon the pun) Paris in a whole new light. They made me understand what I perceived as ‘snobbery’ or disdain at my not knowing the language was a desire for language perfection. That unlike Americans who consider a restaurant or a shop as public places, the French consider these to be extensions of their private homes. I have already found a simple Bon Jour Madame along with general civilities like ‘sil vous plait and merci’ are the key to a better understanding of these formal and sophisticated people. Parisians aren’t like the average American citizen, and after all isn’t that why we travel in the first place, to learn and appreciate other cultures?Next up, my first days in Paris. I’ll share my adventures exploring ancient Paris on the Ile de Cite as well as the area around my hotel the Marais.Au Revior -Mis Amis.
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<br />Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-659317909132589762012-03-11T19:45:00.009-07:002012-03-11T19:58:11.990-07:00Mexico Photos - Cancun, Riviera Maya, Playa Del Carmen and Tulum<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7KCbEDEFDhczvNZQu4q8lV_V2q-_gNEd9kwTMdJqiLtO_ia_BW9xU6n7tO1f5NAdzYAky_AuLHXqPfITP8jqmk4HztrPOC8Aha0TFTvO61izR-hWswO4S2FXq72YTkbwfNxZdk-6cWGg/s1600/IMG_2520.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7KCbEDEFDhczvNZQu4q8lV_V2q-_gNEd9kwTMdJqiLtO_ia_BW9xU6n7tO1f5NAdzYAky_AuLHXqPfITP8jqmk4HztrPOC8Aha0TFTvO61izR-hWswO4S2FXq72YTkbwfNxZdk-6cWGg/s320/IMG_2520.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718839517748039506" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQBD8U1isoU4VsLYUcfmonllW4GBuZPaytogZ9tiaVh5EDloGeebkJDILxqDJCFSpDxA2AEFYfF7d2az_UKLo7STe7-eP9e_nEV_dkBkNDGMBmA616s1ZWlg4jiJOLXS6sMrjq5UqUIek5/s1600/IMG_2512.JPG"><img style="float:right; 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margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vq4QftN5j8ymkJgKc1Mp3gAPvS30apjLvz38b4ES7LkCgRD7V4QSX0VvrIncGgx5hItedp7OMd2nUsJDttKPiHPM-t51g8qzI7dofCkeG0Sh0_R1g1TtBYnM_vZahbjbrOf768WJgdPG/s320/IMG_2425.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715475358288082802" /></a><br />During my visit this week, I have waxed poetic about the Ocean Coral and Turquesa. My comfortable and well appointed Junior suite, the lovely grounds, amazing dining options, the many activities as well as its beautiful white sand beaches. These are all true and I urge you my clients and friends to experience these things yourself. However, similar attributes like the above can be found in resorts of this area and others. What sets the Ocean Coral apart is its people. Sebastian of the activities department who worked diligently with me to improve my Spanish is less than a week, Alan Ramierez, executive chef who took time out of his busy day to see if our meal was to our liking, Guillermo and Jorge in Los Girasoles Mexican restaurant whose expertise in making Mayan coffee was only eclipsed by their service, Dolores and Lupita at the Despacio spa who worked together to give me one of my favorite haircuts of all time, Raul at the Marina del Mar restaurant who always seemed genuinely pleased to see me and greeted me with the brightest smile and the many staff members who I crossed paths with during the day who always greeted me with a cheery Hola! They are what make the Ocean Coral and Turquesa special. This post is about one staff member in particular.<br /><br />“Excuse me my lady” with that Joaquin conceirege of the Ocean Coral and Turquesa resort was off and running, literally. We were chatting in the light and airy hotel lobby where Joaquin noticed a guest had left their sunglasses on one of the couches. He sprinted over, picked up the glasses, returned them to the guest and within seconds was continuing our conversation. When I laughed and noted he was constantly scanning the room, he simply said, ‘it is my hotel’.<br /><br />Joaquin went on to describe how he came to the property during construction and stayed to work at the hotel. His passion, dedication and enthusiasm did not go unnoticed by hotel management, he was quickly promoted many times to his current position of conceirage. After spending a week as one of ‘Joaquin’s people’ I got to benefit directly from his attention to detail, professionalism and his personal credo, ‘nothing is impossible’. <br /><br />For Joaquin the benefits gained are a two way street. His passion for ‘his’ hotel is only matched by his passion for his ‘people’. He shared stories of how ‘his’ hotel combined with his ‘can do attitude’ provided an outstanding experience for his guests Joaquin’s obvious pleasure at seeing his guests satisfied with their visit was extremely uplifting. It was like seeing the living embodiment of the phrase ‘job satisfaction’. (I was chagrinned later in the week when I was whining about something I thought I didn’t want to do, and Joaquin reminded me with a grin, “Nothing is impossible”).<br /><br />So my fellow travelers I take home with me a slight sunburn, some birthday surprises for my hardworking husband who wasn’t able to join me on this is visit, and I hope some of Joaquin’s unfailing commitment to customer service. I am making a March resolution, when I think something can’t be done, in my memory I will hear Joaquin of the Ocean Coral and Turquesa say, “Nothing is impossible”.<br /><br />Thank you Joaquin, for the assistance with dinner reservations, that ugly hat you made for me and made me wear and for showing me the measure of customer service excellence I will endeavor to strive for myself.Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-41568575080016772912012-03-01T06:37:00.005-08:002012-03-01T06:40:39.076-08:00Hair cuts, language and ruins- Mayan Riviera days 2 through 4<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDgnOKJcXYMxVIeU0HoXKCDMZLXrh_gx8F-RC6PPJzNkY6SUAPt4XTgpKHUeYgmaKO0LXXRHODnk2lrLMyiV6ou0bWXjhmm3R_8DVbfIRhLxvNkxPuelg8cYaZLfyUj5xUrZWUTjKZrEF/s1600/IMG_2504.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDgnOKJcXYMxVIeU0HoXKCDMZLXrh_gx8F-RC6PPJzNkY6SUAPt4XTgpKHUeYgmaKO0LXXRHODnk2lrLMyiV6ou0bWXjhmm3R_8DVbfIRhLxvNkxPuelg8cYaZLfyUj5xUrZWUTjKZrEF/s320/IMG_2504.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714938569172482386" /></a><br />As your self proclaimed navigator of all things travel, when I embark on a new travel adventure I consider it my duty to participate in as many new experiences as possible. It was that sense of duty that turned my feet towards the Despacio Spa at the Ocean Coral and Turquesa resort (I know dear readers, I know but I care that much!). My tour of the modern, soothing facility; combined with my horrifying glimpse in the mirror of my too long and stringy hair tamed for the beach in a scrunchie (a scrunchie!!! What the hell was I thinking, <shudder>) that brought me at 4pm CST to Dolores, stylist for the salon. <br /><br />I sat in the chair with some trepidation. I was weeks overdue for my regular cut(I have a bad habit of suddenly realizing I didn’t make an appointment for my haircut with important dates looming on the horizon ex.a vacation) and my normal style definitely wasn’t easily apparent.<br />Mi espanoel es muy mal and while Dolores’s English was better, how would we bridge the communication gap with something as important as my head? I needn’t worried, I love my new cut. Dolores was extremely thorough, checking progress many times during the process. I was ready for anything the resort had to offer!<br /><br />As salsa musica blasted from the speakers, Sebastian set up a white board and chairs near the activity pool edge. Tuesday at 10am the Mexican sun was shining, but the heat not oppressive for my Spanish language lesson. I love foreign languages and studied Spanish for four years in high school and two in college. But what my education has always lacked is the ability to practice with a native speaker. My classmates were the approximately 10 year old Americans Charlie and Reed who had never had a Spanish lesson as well as Candela and Camilla who at about the same hailed from Argentina. The class was everything I could have hoped for a review of basic vocab for the less experienced with an opportunity for myself as well as the young ladies from Argentina to practice Spanish and English with each other. I was absolutely delighted with Sebastian’s pace and energy in the class. His enthusiasm for his language was infectious and when some ladies from Argentina (the lovely Vanessa and Lucia ) the class became even more lively and fun. Sebastian approached me after class and let me know he would prepare some advanced Spanish concepts for my lesson on Thursday.<br /><br />The Toyota van rolled down the highway through Rivieras Cancun and Maya Seated behind the driver, I could see the Cancun Riviera laid out before me. As we passed elegant and impressive resort after resort and were passed my late model sedans, SUVs, and trucks, it occurred to me this was not the Mexico I experienced in 1982. Its citizens and the country itself (at least in this area) seemed to be enjoying prosperity and growth. More surprising there wasn’t a 60s era rusted out VW Beetle in sight. This Mexico was not unlike South Florida in its white sand beaches and upscale feel. The excursion had been arranged by my colleague in Cancun Alejandra Ozzorco, owner of Your Cancun dmc. Ale’s company provides ‘everything on the ground in Cancun to make the guests stay more pleasant’ like wedding assistance, private airport transfers. Today I was using Your Cancun’s services for a private tour of the Mayan archaeological ruins of Tulum. Located an easy hour and half ride from my hotel, Tulum was the major center of Mayan commerce with goods coming to the market there from Mayan tribes from as far away as Honduras and Belize for import with the Cancun area’s major exports of salt and honey also being traded at the market. The site is well preserved. The chief’s palace and the temple being in the best condition. The most surprising thing about Tulum? Its lovely public beaches, offering a cooling break from the midday Mexican sun. After our tour we chose to go to Playa del Carmen where our tour guide David Celis recommended Yaxche, a local restaurant serving traditional Mayan dishes. I had barbeque pork with hand made flour tortillas along with home made tortilla chips with the Mayan pumpkin seed sauce. During our lunch break we discussed Mexican mourning rituals, the country’s celebration of Dias de las muertas (days of the dead), Mayan cooking methods. For me, relaxing and visiting with a native person is the highlight of my trip. A private tour allows you the luxury of not only setting the pace of your day, but getting in depth knowledge of a country’s people.Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7424194314901460879.post-17534644517924590152012-02-27T07:32:00.004-08:002012-02-27T17:19:49.050-08:00Benevideos a Riviera Maya de Mexico<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbxuVkMOQzzIMGP7y5Gss8LkarVIQFyUXJRT4hgbhgdDS8Zzt8ogsEMN_NF5BaNZXRL2AE9jkfZ-XebH2WT4NeBMmFWonUwo7Jz__Z7BKt2gmrYin56nAZHQ3zyWfR1IKY5XaouM_0gkS/s1600/IMG_2394.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbxuVkMOQzzIMGP7y5Gss8LkarVIQFyUXJRT4hgbhgdDS8Zzt8ogsEMN_NF5BaNZXRL2AE9jkfZ-XebH2WT4NeBMmFWonUwo7Jz__Z7BKt2gmrYin56nAZHQ3zyWfR1IKY5XaouM_0gkS/s320/IMG_2394.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713990014326944866" /></a><br />I venture to Old Mexico to have a working vacation<br /><br />I’ve been having a streak of good luck lately. After almost four years, the gremlins who rejoice in taking my stuff and then suddenly placing it right in front of me, decided it was time to give me back my gold earrings. I got in line at the airport just in time to score the last three business class seats for a mere $40.00 each, and I arrived at the lovely all inclusive resort, the Ocean Coral and Turquesa, Riviera Maya Mexico.<br /><br />Disembarking from the plane, navigating immigration and customs are pretty much the same everywhere. Long lines of people excited to begin their trip, not paying attention to signage or instructions from the personnel, it’s the pre vacation shuffle. But, when I finally walked through the door from the bleak Detroit pre dawn and snowy morning into the riot of color, light and noise that is Mexico, I was immediately energized.<br /><br />The beauty of an all inclusive resort is of course .’everything is included’ which in reality means everything is done in large quantities to accommodate as many guests as possible at one time to maximize effiency (and lets be honest profit as well), The ‘shared airport transfer’ is no exception. It’s a bus plain and simple. However how a guest is treated on the bus certainly sets the tone for the visit. I booked my trip through Apple Vacations. Their representatives were easily identifiable in their tropical floral shirts, and once we approached they quickly took our bags and got us situated on the correct bus by property. Once on the road a representative barely had time to explain the check in process and we had arrived at the first resort- the Now Sapphire (another resort I recommend, and I have to say the grounds were as lovely as I expected. I will be touring the property during my stay). Those who were staying at that resort were quickly off loaded and we arrived at the Ocean Coral and Turquesa five minutes later - literally 20 minutes from the time we left the airport.<br /><br />Check in was pretty painless. We had chosen the Prividge package (ocean view junior suite, secluded area of the resort, priority dining reservations) so we were met by Joaquin, our conceirage for the duration. Our rooms weren’t ready so Joaquin took us on a tour of the property. It was definitely the single most helpful thing he could have done. Everyone has gone on a cruise or to a resort and it is only when you are ready to leave you can easily find things. The Ocean Coral has several pools. One ‘quiet’ pool located in our section of the resort. A larger pool with fountains and the built in tile lounge chairs as well as jets and finally the activity pool the most lively of the three. We had lunch in the Marina del Mar restaurant overlooking the activities pool and by the end of lunch our rooms were ready. Our Junior suite has a nice sitting area, flat screen tv, balcony with table and chairs and more than ample storage. Our room overlooks the garden onto the ‘Quiet pool’ and over to the beach. It’s bathroom has a large tub and separate shower. <br /><br />.Joaquin had made reservations for us at Los Giraloes the property’s authentic Mexican restaurant. No ‘nachos bel grande’ or ‘seven layer dip’ to be found. I enjoyed a well seasoned flank steak with rice and a three queso dip with warm tortillas. Others in my party enjoyed fajitas, a fresh local wrapped fish in a corn tortilla and beef chimichangas. The high light of the evening was Joaquin’s recommendation of ‘Mayan coffee’ A coffee beverage with kahlua, a local honey liquor and whipped cream. ( I can’t adequately describe the process, so I am posting a few photos).Angsparhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151084653152571749noreply@blogger.com0