Jaco’s on the Pensacola Waterfront
“Where do you want to go for lunch?” asks AdventureMan.
Sometimes I tell him “you choose!” but not today. “Jaco’s” I reply.
“Where is Jaco’s?” he asks, and I tell him it is down by the Pensacola pier. I have seen it, I have wondered about it, and every now and then I hear it mentioned in passing by some friend or another. I want to give it a try.
The minute we walk in, we love it.
First, there is this great place to sit outside, and if it is a little cool, they have these heaters, like they use in Kuwait and Qatar in cool weather, so people can still sit outside. Outside is beautiful, because you are right on the Marina, right on the water.
We got there just in time. Following us, the teeming hoards decended, and we were glad we had ordered and been served while it was still relatively quiet. Jaco’s has definitely been discovered.
The food is great. What? You thought we only ate barbecue? No, we love barbecue, and we seek it out mostly because for lo, these many years, we have been seriously barbecue deprived, it’s not so common in the Arabian Gulf countries to find good ol’ American barbecue.
Nor is it common to find food this good, this well prepared, in Pensacola. Everything we ordered, we loved.
We started with the spinach soup:
And then I had Antipasto platter, and AdventureMan had a ‘flatbread pizza’, which we found is a whole lot like an Alsatian ‘flammekeuchen.’ Oh Yummmmmmm.
I forgot to take photos of dessert – I had a berry dessert and AdventureMan had a cobbler, again, both yummmmmm.
We love this place. We plan to go there frequently.
We had been recently to another restaurant I will not be reviewing. It thinks a lot of itself. They start you off with ‘the water service.’ I had the ‘most adventuresome’ meal on the menu, the terrine, and it wasn’t all that great. It was just OK. Others at my table had similar experiences, except for the one who ordered the common hamburger, who said it was a really, really good hamburger. It means well; the first time I ate there I had a delicious risotto, but the dessert was only so-so, not worth the hyped up description. We won’t go back.
We will be going back to Jaco’s. Jaco’s is fun, unpretentious, with great, fresh tasty food, a view to die for, good service and a lot of happy patrons.
AdventureMan’s New Talents
This has been a great month for AdventureMan.
He knew what he wanted. He thought about it, planned it, sought out resources. He now has three photo shelves in his office, where he can display a changing round of photographs. He bought the lumber, tacked on the trim and mounted them on the wall, all by himself.
All these years he has worked so hard – he has never had the time for a fun project like this, and he just sits there and grins that something he was able to do himself can give him so much satisfaction and happiness. Retired, maybe, but still learning new skills, scaling new mountains.
Last night, he baked his first pork tenderloin, and then roasted up some asparagus with an olive vinaigrette sauce. Oh, yummmmm. Still growing, still developing new skills, it is so much fun.
Today, he is going out to explore what kind of kayak he wants to buy. 🙂
You Can’t Take it With You
I awoke this morning from the most horrible dream, and it’s a dream I have had often, but this time, there is no reason. I am packing boxes. I have a deadline. I have a lot to pack, I am feeling very anxious, and I keep getting distracted from my packing. Soon I will have to go, and I haven’t accomplished what I meant to accomplish.
This dream is a very common dream for someone who has moved 31 times in her life, who had packed boxes and suitcases and never missed a deadline. Never once have I left a box with someone else to mail for me. I’ve had these anxiety dreams so many times, but never when I am not facing a move.
So I felt depressed, and I felt anxious this morning, wondering what my dream means. Does it mean that I am thinking about my mortality, and distracted by my attachment to things? Does it mean that I need to be clearing up and organizing my life so I can depart? Or is it just a remnant anxiety, like those leftover dreams about having to take a college exam you haven’t prepared for?
For me, the cure for depression, anxiety and morbidity is action. We hit the water aerobics class this morning and she worked us so hard we both fell asleep this afternoon. I got some tomatoes (not the Black Krim, which I have not yet found) and basil potted, and some weeding done. Depression gone. Anxiety gone. Inklings drift across my consciousness, but I sweep them away like cobwebs.
In Search of the Seminole Pumpkin and the Black Krim
The big box stores are full of plants, some of which will grow in Florida, and some of which are nothing but heartache. They SAY these plants are all zone specific to our area – it’s a big fat lie. Many of the plants they sell will last a short while, but were never meant to grow here.
I planted a lot of seeds last year, and got tomato plants of many varieties, but only one actually produced fruit, a golden drop tomato. I bought plants, and one plant, bought from a local gardener at an annual gardener’s fest, produced copiously – the Black Krim. We tried growing crook neck squash and zuccini, but one day our plants looked healthy and fabulous, and the next, they would be withered and broken, eaten from the inside by some boring insect. Literally boring, not figuratively speaking.
At a meeting this week (which I am so glad I attended) the director of the local Manna Food Pantry program was telling us about the Manna community gardens, and he mentioned a squash that will grow, the Seminole squash or pumpkin.
I’ve spent two days touring nurseries and open markets to see if I can fine one. One nursery had heard of it but said you usually see it later in the season, you plant it like in July so that you will have first fruits in September.
The rules for gardening are so different in Florida. I am learning, but it is all counter intuitive, except that in Kuwait gardening was similar – people yearned for October, when you could set out plantings and hope they would not be destroyed by the heat.
Bougainvillea is an exception. You would think it would grow beautifully in this heat and humidity, but I am told that the cool winters kill it off. It doesn’t really get that cold for that long, but it seems it is cold enough and long enough to kill bougainvillea, which breaks my heart. I love the flamboyant lushness of bougainvillea.
Meanwhile, we will be planting other zone-hardy plants, and we will see what works. If you see a Seminole Pumpkin / Squash plant for sale, let me know, will you?
Tonight the full moon will be closer to the earth than at any other time for many years to come. AdventureMan and I are heading out with a little picnic to watch the moon rise from a tiny park we know. 🙂
You Must Not Be From Around Here
When I got back to Kuwait, I had to regain my driving courage all over again. I remember growing up, when we would go to fairs and carnivals, where I loved to ride the bumper cars. We were all aggressive; we wanted to win. It never occurred to me that there would be countries where people would drive real cars that way. Touch wood, I never had an accident in Kuwait, and I learned how to drive aggressively but somehow stayed safe.
Driving in Pensacola is a piece of cake – most of the time. Suddenly, we have some TRAFFIC. There are cars on the road from all over, never fewer than two or three in every car, usually dressed in beach gear, and full of high spirits. It is Spring Break. People are flocking to the gorgeous white beaches of Pensacola, spilling out of the lively beach restaurants, and even some of the restaurants in downtown Pensacola. College students, families (local schools are also on spring break) and the snow birds are filling our roads, not entirely sure where they are going.
In one of our favorite nearby restaurants, we saw some college age kids come in, and then another group, all greeted familiarly by the owners, and then their tables were joined so they could all sit together – locals, back home from university for Spring Break.
It’s a sweet time of the year. The weather is in the high 70’s, cooling down at night. We have the a/c off, we keep it off as long as we can.
Beirut Knows How to Have Fun
I’m sure most of you have seen this, but it just rocks my heart! Beirut Airport duty free! Rafic Hariri International Airport! They are having so much fun! I would love to see this on the catwalk in the Kuwait airport or Qatar airport, LOL, I am guessing in the Gulf it would have to be just men, but some of these Lebanese girls are amazing dancers!
All this dancing is so good for your health! Look, there isn’t a fat person on the floor! They have all danced themselves skinny!
Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese
Someone in my book club in Qatar mentioned this book, Cutting for Stone, a while back, and I bought it, but it has sat for months on my to-read shelf (LOL, there are actually several, but one with the most important books, and another with the ‘guilty pleasures,’ the ones I am addicted to and save as a reward for good behavior, like vacuuming.)
When a good friend said she was reading it, and that it was good, I decided to move it up in priority, sort of like taking medicine, read a book that is good for you.
Oh WOW.
First, it is a great, absorbing story. Twin boys are born, totally unexpected, to an Indian Catholic nun and an English surgeon, working in Addis Ababa. How they were conceived is a mystery. The mother dies in childbirth, the father flees in horror, the children are born conjoined at the head and must be separated. The boys are adopted by an Indian couple, doctors at the hospital, and are raised with love and happiness.
That’s just the beginning!
I’ve always wanted to go to Ethiopia and Eritrea. I want to visit Lalibela, and some of the oldest Christian churches in the world. When my father was sick, he had a home health aid from Ethiopia, Esaiahs, who told me about the customs in his church, and how Ethiopian Christianity is very close to Judaism, with men and women separated in the church, and eating pork forbidden.
Reading this book, I felt like I had lived there, and I want to go back. The author captures the feelings, the smells, the visuals, the sounds, and if I awoke in a bungalow at the MIssing (Mission) Hospital, I would say “Ah yes! I remember this!”
I kept marking sections of this book that I loved. Here is one:
They parked at Ghosh’s bungalow and walked to the rear or Missing, where the bottlebrush was so laden with flowers that it looked as if it had caught fire. The property edge was marked by the acacias, their flat tops forming a jagged line against the sky. Missing’s far west corner was a promontory looking over a vast valley. That acreage as far as the eye could see belonged to a ras – a duke – who was relative of His Majesty, Haile Selassie.
A brook, hidden by boulders, burbled; sheep grazed under the eye of a boy who sat polishing his teeth with a twig, his staff near by. He squinted at Matron and Ghosh and then waved. Just like in the days of David, he carried a slingshot. It was a goatherd like him, centuries before, who had noticed how frisky his animals became after chewing a particuar red berry. From that serendipitous discovery, the coffee habit and trade spread to Yemen, Amsterdam, the Caribbean, South America, and the world, but it had all begun in Ethiopia, in a field like this.
We live inside the hearts and minds of doctors, some practicing under the worst possible conditions, and learn how they make their decisions and why. Verghese is a compassionate author; while his characters may be flawed, they are forgivable and forgiven.
Another section I loved, the man speaking is Ghosh, the man who adopted the twins with Hema, another doctor:
“My genius was to know long ago that money alone wouldn’t make me happy. Or maybe that’s my excuse for not leaving you a huge fortune! I certainly could have made more money if that had been my goal. But one thing I won’t have is regrets. My VIP patients often regret so many things on their deathbeds. They regret the bitterness they’ll leave in people’s hearts. They realize that no money, no church service, no eulogy, no funeral procession no matter how elaborate, can remove the legacy of a mean spirit.”
Things in Ethiopia get sticky, politically, and one of the twins is forced to flee, implicated in an airplane hijacking only because he was raised with a young woman involved. He is spirited into Eritrea, where he awaits his ride out to Kenya, and he helps the Eritrean rebels when large numbers of wounded are brought into his area. When the time comes to leave, his thoughts will strike a chord in anyone who has ever been an expat:
Two days later I took leave of Solomon. There were dark rings under his eyes and he looked ready to fall over. There was no questioning his purpose or dedication. Solomon said “Go and good luck to you. This isn’t your fight. I’d go if I were in your shoes. Tell the world about us.”
This isn’t your fight. I thought about that as I trekked to the border with two escorts. What did Solomon mean? Did he see me as being on the Ethiopian side, on the side of the occupiers? No, I think he saw me as an expatriate, someone without a stake in this war. Despite being born in the same compound as Genet, despite speaking Amharic like a native, and going to medical school with him, to Solomon I was a ferengi – a foreigner. Perhaps he was right, even though I was loath to admit it. If I were a patriotic Ethiopian, would I not have gone underground and joined the royalists, or others who were trying to topple Sergeant Mengistu? If I cared about my country, shouldn’t I have been willing to die for it?
The book has a lot of observations about coming to America; some of which made me laugh, some which made me groan. Coming back is always a shock to people who have lived abroad for a time, but it is a huge shock to those coming for the first time:
The black suited drivers led their passengers to sleek black cars, but myman led me to a big yellow taxi. In no time we were driving out of Kennedy Airport, heading to the Bronx. We merged at what I thought was a dangerous speed onto a freeway and into the slipstream of racing vehicles. “Marion, jet travel has damaged your eardrums,” I said to myself, because the silence was unreal. In Africa, cars ran not on petrol but on the squawk and blare of their horns. Not so here; the cars were near silent, like a school of fish. All I heard was the whish of rubber on concrete or asphalt.
As I neared the end, I read more slowly, unwilling for this book to end. It is one of the most vivid and moving books I have ever read. AdventureMan has gone online to find the nearest Ethiopian restaurant so we can have some injera and wot.
Exercise Reverses Aging
When I lived in Qatar, we had a group that did water-aerobics, and we, sort of ironically, called ourselves the Aqua Babes. (If you knew us, you would snicker along with us. ) The best part was that we had a lot of fun, secondly, we got some exercise. Our motto was “Any exercise is better than nothing,” and we would repeat it to ourselves on mornings when the pool was too cold and we were kicking lacksadaisically in the hot tub, LOL. It tickles my heart to see the researcher use the same words. 🙂
I found this report on AOL NEWS
Photo Courtesy of Adeel Safdar
Ph.D. student Adeel Safdar is pictured with one of the mice that took part in the exercise and aging study at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario.
Research Shows Exercise Reverses Aging in Mice
Rebecca Delaney
Dr. Mark Tarnopolsky is not a couch potato. The professor of pediatrics at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario, recently placed first in his age group in a series of trail races in the United States and Canada. He’s also competed internationally in winter triathlons, ski orienteering and adventure racing. However, if he feels burnt out and needs a little motivation to hit the gym, he needs only to look to his lab.
Tarnopolsky recently published a groundbreaking study with Ph.D. student Adeel Safdar that found exercise reversed the signs of aging in mice.
Tarnopolsky specializes in studying and treating mitochondria dysfunction. Mitochondria are similar to little furnaces in each cell that convert food and oxygen into energy for the cell to do its job. As people age, the mitochondria break down, causing the cells to break down as well — thus contributing to the well-known signs of aging, brain atrophy, wrinkles, hair loss and heart problems.
“We knew that exercise was beneficial and that runners had a lower risk of death,” Tarnopolsky told AOL News. “But we wanted to look at the systemic effects and find a therapy [exercise] that’s available to most people if they got off the couch and did it.”
The mice that Tarnopolsky used in his study had been genetically modified with dysfunctional mitochondria, meaning they were engineered to age prematurely. Half of these genetically modified mice ran for 45 minutes on mini treadmills, like those at a gym — except smaller — three times a week. The other half remained sedentary in their cages.
The results were staggering.
“After a few months of exercise, there were absolutely unprecedented changes,” Safdar said. “And we saw improvements not only in their running capacity but also their other organ systems.”
He added, “It went way above and beyond the muscles and heart, but also the brain, gonads, kidneys and other organs. It was absolutely exciting.”
The exercised mice were also more robust and had shinier, fuller fur.
“Every organ was better off in the mice that exercised,” Tarnopolsky said. “And not just a little bit better — it was a 100 percent improvement.”
Safdar said that before he joined Tarnopolsky’s lab he wasn’t that interested in exercising, but now he makes a point to stay active by running and doing karate.
“People who exercise are generally physically active longer and are happier,” he said. “Their whole system remains young, so to speak.”
And for those who haven’t exercised regularly, it’s not too late to start, the scientists said. People don’t have to run on a treadmill for 45 minutes three times a day, like the mice.
“Anything is better than nothing,” Tarnopolsky said. Those who are older than 65 can still see the benefits if they just start walking for five minutes and slowly ramp up.
Tarnopolsky also conducted a previous study on weight training in seniors, which proved to significantly slow the body’s aging process.
“It all about keeping yourself moving every day,” Safdar added.
“You Seem Happy Here – Are You?”
The landscape designer and I met last year as she toured our garden and helped us identify the plants we have in our garden. She had great ideas, and gave us a lot of help caring for a mature garden. She suggested we live with our yard for a year, and then decide how we want to move forward.
It was the best advice. What looked like a wreck of a garden after last year’s very cold winter came back back with a vengeance. We had fabulous plants, plants the birds and bees and butterflies and hummingbirds all loved to visit. We had a chance to visit other gardens and to see what we like. This year, we have more of a plan, and this lovely lady who has been gardening in Pensacola all her life, helps us fine tune our plans.
We’ve been going around the yard, figuring out where to put a pomegranate tree, a lime tree, a couple hydrangea bushes.
“You seem happy here,” she starts, “Are you?”
“You sound surprised!” I laughed, thinking how many moves I’ve made, and how I really like living near our son, his wife and son. We’ve been here a year now. I make friends slowly, but I actually have a few now.
“I wasn’t sure you would be able to handle the heat,” she confided.
I laughed. “I can’t. There is this wonderful thing called air conditioning. When it gets too hot, I don’t spent much time outside. I’m doing fine.”
It’s been almost a year since we bought the house here. It seems like so much longer, so much has happened. Last night, AdventureMan made a fabulous Bermuda Fish Chowder. Our son’s wife and little Baby Q came by for dinner while our son waited in line at Best Buy for a new iPad2, wooo hooo. He came by as soon as finished the purchase. Life is sweet, and yes, I think I am happy.
Ash Wednesday in Pensacola 2011
Luke 18:9-14
9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. 11The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. 12I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” 13But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’
(From the Lectionary readings for today)
“I forgot to set my alarm” AdventureMan said, coming down the stairs, “we missed the first service.”
Today is Ash Wednesday, the day Lent begins for Christians. We go to church, the priest puts a cross on our forehead in ash, to remind us “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”, that our life here on earth is only temporary, and that our true home is heaven.
It’s easier to believe that in your gut when you are an expat.
My cousin wrote to me, and in his email, he wrote that I write about my own culture the same way I wrote about Germany, about Qatar, about Kuwait – as an expat, as an outside observer. Pensacola is like my foreign assignments; I could live here for twenty years (God willing) and I will never be a native, I will always be from somewhere else, the kind of person about whom others will say “she must not be from around here.” I am guessing I will get more comfortable, more confident, but I will always be not-quite-right among the natives.
And that is how we are supposed to be living here on earth – as people not-quite-right, as people eager to return to our true heavenly home.
Lent in my own country is odd to me, now. In a foreign country, you are accustomed to thinking of yourself as a minority; your differentness makes you more aware or who you are, and what you value. There is a part of me that thinks Lent would be a lot easier if, like Qatar, and like Kuwait, and like Saudi Arabia, religious practices were state enforced, like everyone in the USA fasted at the same time, maybe nobody would sell meat or chocolate or alcohol. And then, I think “but what is the point?” The point is our own sacrifice. Is it a sacrifice if it is enforced from the outside?
I can’t sacrifice cussing in traffic this year. Pensacola traffic, by the grace of God, is nearly non-existent, and it is mellow. I’m not even tempted. I’m trying to figure out what I will sacrifice.
Father Neal Goldsborough at Christ Church Episcopal told us on Sunday how all the children come in from the Episcopal Day School to have the ashes imposed, and how poignant it is for him, and I can’t help but think of all the soldiers he has been with at their death, mere children, children of God, and how he must see the faces of these soldiers in the faces of these tiny children. My heart would weep, even knowing they are on their way home.
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