Morocco Malta and the Med: Ajaccio (Corsica) and Napoleon
Early morning arrival in Ajaccio
Breakfast at Mamsens, the small Norwegian style kiosk in the Explorer’s Lounge. We love their waffles with fruit and I especially love the golden gjetost, soft smooth and nutty.
We can see the buses lining up for our excursion. We signed up for the earliest; I like the early morning light for photos and we are docked right in town; we can leave the tour as it finishes and explore on our own. We hope we can also have lunch in Ajaccio. We’ve never been here before, and AdventureMan is a long-time appreciator of Napoleon, his strategies and tactics, who was born in Ajaccio.
Sometimes I overthink. My morning is cloudy and grey, and light flat and sullen. Ah well, we do the best we can with what we’ve got. Fortunately Viking has their nice bright red canopy and carpet to usher us off the ship and to our buses.
The light fixtures are interesting, Napoleonic crowns
Napoleon looking at AdventureMan with appreciation. 😉
The cave of Napoleon (he hid there? I don’t know the significance.)
We drove along the coastline, I never mind a coastal drive! This is some of the priciest real estate in Corsica, overlooking the sea. These are family crypts, so beautiful that families picnic, even sleep in these houses where their family members are encrypted.
We come to a rest stop, and the three island/mountains with towers on top are significant, but I can’t remember how. It is sunny now, and windy, and we appreciated the time to walk and breathe in the sea air. Their were powerful waves hitting the wharf, so it was chained so we wouldn’t walk out there.
Back in town, we exit the bus at the church where Napoleon was baptized, which is undergoing some repairs and renovations now, but they let us go in.
We are told that these are Corsican windows, special to the area because Corsicans are snoopy and into one another’s business and these windows allow snoopy women not to be seen but to keep up with the happenings in the neighborhood. I tell you this because in Malta, these same windows are reported as a Maltese invention because Maltese women are snoopy, and in Rome, of course they were a Roman invention because – well, you get the picture. I guess the women were snoopy because they were often confined to the home, and learned what they could by peeping out these screened windows?
The next church was dear to my heart, the Mariner’s church. Far less elaborate than Napoleon’s church, this church was in place to pray for those who go to sea, who fish, who are sometimes late returning, and for those who never come back. Growing up in Alaska, among fishing folk, I have a great respect for and a healthy fear of the sea. I feel at home in this beautiful, heart-felt church.
Leaving the Mariner’s Church and nearby, the Fortress and moat. And something else, can you see?
I’ve changed the angle just a bit, can you see now?
That’s our ship! We’re the only ship docked in the center of town, and you can see it from everywhere. We have no concern leaving the group when we are ready; we know how to get back to the ship before it sails.
Our guide implied that the people of Ajaccio are actually prouder of Pascal Paoli than Napoleon, and that we should be too, we Americans. Do you know who he is? Wikipedia says:
Paoli commemorated in the United States
The American Sons of Liberty movement were inspired by Paoli. Ebenezer McIntosh, a leader of the Sons of Liberty, named his son Paschal Paoli McIntosh in honour of him. In 1768, the editor of the New York Journal described Paoli as “the greatest man on earth“. Several places in the United States are named after him. These include:
- Paoli, Colorado
- Paoli, Indiana
- Paoli, Kentucky
- Paoli, Oklahoma
- Paoli, Pennsylvania, which was named after “General Paoli’s Tavern” a meeting-point of the Sons of Liberty and homage to the “General of the Corsicans”.
- Paoli, Wisconsin
Our guide told us that the first democratic constitution in the world was Paoli’s 1755 Constitution for the independent Republic of Corsica and that it was written in conjunction with with Thomas Jefferson and was directly influencial in the formation of the US Constitution.. I can find no verification of that information, but I found the following in Grunge. Hmmmm.
The American Dream is born
Emanuel Leutze
Across the Atlantic, Patriots in the Thirteen Colonies eagerly followed the Corsican War. According to the Journal of the American Revolution, Corsica’s heroism made Paoli highly respected in America, inspiring the Patriots (especially the Sons of Liberty) to push for a war of independence. William Pitt called him “a hero out of Plutarch.” According to the Colonial Society, the leader of the Boston Riots, Ebenezer Mackintosh, named his son after Pasquale. At Columbia University (then King’s College), a battalion of student volunteers of the NY militia nicknamed “the Corsicans” formed in 1775. Its most famous member? Alexander Hamilton.
Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Wisconsin all contain towns named Paoli after that famous Corsican hero. At Paoli’s Tavern, PA, British forces defeated George Washington and Anthony Wayne. The significance of the name was surely not lost on either side. But was Paoli’s spirit present at the Old Pennsylvania State House in 1787?
According to Thomas Jefferson, he was not. The US Constitution was a purely American product, free of foreign influence. But Georges Coanet, secretary-general of the Pasquale Paoli Foundation, during a visit to Paoli, PA, noted that Paoli ran in the same Masonic circles as Benjamin Franklin and Lafayette, so they would have at least known about his constitution and ideas. It will never be certain, but given his American fame after Ponte Novu, it is certainly plausible that Paoli was at least on the minds of some of the founders during that hot Pennsylvania summer.
Read More: https://www.grunge.com/441925/the-heroic-story-of-the-island-that-inspired-the-american-revolution/
Paoli and the Bonaparte family did not get along. There’s a history. Below is the house where Napoleon was said to be born.
Lots of little shops open selling Napoleonic schlock, but it is Monday, and the Napoleonic Museum is not open.
At this central plaza, we separated from the group; I knew where the open market was and I wanted to see it. It was nearby. It was closed. No big deal, I also urgently needed to buy some mascara, and we had seen a large French department store on a main street, so we looked it up on Google and followed the blue dots until we got there. French store, lots of mascara, emergency met. As I paid at the caisse, I had to wait while a very long conversation took place between the cashier and a woman I thought to be a customer. But no, the cashier turned to me, although the other woman kept talking, and took my payment.
We are always trying to break large Euro bills so that we have small coins for bathrooms and for tips, so I broke a 100 Euro bill and as the cashier handed me the change (the mascara was not expensive so there was a lot of change) the woman was talking to me, and she was telling me she had not eaten for several days and that she was very hungry.
I am on a 23 day trip on a large ship going to wonderful places and I have a fist full of change in my hand. A part of me feels extorted, and a part of me sees me – privileged, buying a luxury, not a necessity, and with a handful of bills. I was ashamed I had even hesitated. Yes, I gave her some money to eat.
I never know when it is right or wrong, and I am sure I have been taken advantage of. In my readings, I came across this exhortation in scriptures: Matthew 5:42 Give to everyone who begs of you.
We are hungry, and we wanted to eat in Ajaccio. We find a place that looks promising, there is a local man sleeping with a glass of brandy in his hand and a dog on his lap. We take that as a promising sign. Here is another promising sign:
We love this name, liberally translated “The Hole in the Wall”
If you look very closely, you may see the sleeping man and his dog on his lap 😊
My husband orders the Entrecôte, and I order the Aioli Maison Cabillaud. It’s too much food, but it is delicious! Sorry, I ate most of my fish before I remembered to take a picture.
Here’s something interesting to me – we eat like kings. On these cruises, we eat what we wish, and we eat desserts. We are walking so much – most days 10,000 steps or more. Sometimes way more. We are so active, the weight doesn’t stick. Also, we really like vegetables and salads and seafood with lighter sauces or no sauce at all, so we don’t worry, and we don’t gain weight. Also, the desserts served on board are very small, and even so, we might split a dessert so we usually get home our same weight or – even a little less! It’s a mystery.
We walk back to the ship – we had wine with lunch and are ready for a short nap. After our nap, we head for the spa, the beautiful Viking spa with hot water pool, a snow room, a wet steam room, a dry steam room – oh what luxury.
We are back in our cabin for sunset and Sail Away, and we see a spectacular sight – it’s nearing sunset, and suddenly the starlings start flocking; they look like schools of fish in the water, same movement, a glorious, joyful dance! I looked it up. It is called a murmuration. A murmuration . . .
This must be a frequent occurrence; guns are going off all over town, and fireworks. I don’t know if it is to keep the starlings from landing or to provide everyone with this spectacle.
At sundown the Christmas lights come on!
And we sail away from Ajaccio.
Morocco Malta and the Med, Day 2, A Nightime Adventure
Fresh from our nap and not sure where we want to eat, we head out to accomplish a small errand. I have discovered I have lost my hairbrush. This is an emergency. Brushing hair is a must do! AdventureMan is sure I have misplaced it, so I look again, and it is nowhere to be found. But how hard can it be to buy a hairbrush?
Harder than we thought. We pop into a couple grocery stores, where they have everything, everything except hair brushes. We head into the side streets, where I find a hair salon and go in to buy a hairbrush. This turned into a real comedy. They couldn’t understand me, so I spoke French, and they got the brush part they were very concerned. I finally figured out they had no appointments for me, they thought I wanted my hair brushed. I kept trying to explain. AdventureMan left to see if he could find anything, but came back and we were still trying to figure it out. Finally, they understood I wanted to buy a brush, but they didn’t have any for sale. They were so kind, and by the time we finished, the entire shop was engaged in trying to help me.
“China! China” and they pointed to the right, and then to the left. “China!”
We never found the China shop, but AdventureMan found a Pakastini shop that carried a little of everything and spoke Arabic; he just reached behind him, pulled out a brush and it was great. First problem solved.
Now, where to eat? We are not out on the main street, but these back streets are intriguing. Like this is where real people are living, buying groceries (and hairbrushes) and there are restaurants, not fancy, but we walk until AdventureMan finds one he wants to try.
We go in and find a table and ask for menus, and a table of guys drinking next to us starts raising a ruckus and looking at us. It’s hard to be a stranger.
The manager or bartender admonishes them lightly and takes our order.
I am thinking it might not be the right time to be eating, maybe it is only time for drinking and maybe little tapas until dinner time, which in Spain is a lot later. But we order, and everything seems OK.
AdventureMan orders a Fisherman’s Soup, and I order a different kind of soup, and we share a plate of grilled peppers. The soups are some of the best food we had on the trip.
I ended up with a soup that was white beans and some kind of pork, hammy pork, and vegetables. The broth was flavorful, probably had more salt than we normally use, so it was delicious. AdventureMan’s soup took the prize, though. Full of fish and shellfish, with a broth that could almost stand up, it was so strong.
If we hadn’t gone off the main road looking for a hairbrush, we would never have ended up in this little neighborhood pub place with its delicious soups!
It’s a risk. We went against conventional wisdom. The streets were darker, and smaller, and might not have been so safe – Barcelona IS a big city. The walk back to the hotel was a little bit scary, but nothing happened, and we had a small adventure and a really good local meal. As we passed the hair salon, they were still open, so I waved my hairbrush in victory, and the hairdresser came out and hugged me in joy and said something (I have no idea what,) but she was joyful with me. I call that a great adventure.
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: Dubai, Sharjah and More Adventure Than Anticipated
North from Muscat, through the Straits of Hormuz (where you see Khasab) and then south to Dubai.
We didn’t have a lot of expectations for the day. We were docking late in Dubai, just after lunch, and heading off almost immediately for Sharjah. We couldn’t really think why we were really going.
Packing to go home changes everything. You are no longer on a journey, you are already planning an end, it’s like the end of a love affair. AdventureMan and I sit down and calculate our tips. The tour requires that we prepay gratuities, and we did so, but there are people who contributed greatly to our happiness on board, and we need to encourage them in the most sincere way – cash.
So I spend my early morning time up in Horizons, drinking coffee, catching up on e-mails, and taking photos of the sunrise, which is shockingly dirty. The sun appears to be fighting its way through the smog and haze. And, oddly, the sun is rising on the port side of the ship, which would imply we are heading south, how can that be? I figure we must have passed the Straits of Hormuz and are now going south towards Dubai, it’s the only explanation I can think of. (See map above)
We hit breakfast – it’s taken about two weeks for us to settle back down, with all the variety and abundance offered, and we are now back to mostly eating with some discipline. I’ve not been as good with the blood sugar during the trip, but I’m back down to normal now and want to hold that line.
Our last trip to the spa, and once again, we have it all to ourselves, and then loll around for a while in the hot Gulf sunshine before showering – the spa is salt and showering is a must, as is drinking a lot of water to rehydrate. Lunch is just a little rushed, and then we are off to the Nautica Lounge where we run into Ed and Alan, and catch up on their happenings as we wait for our trips to be called. They are off to visit Dubai, while we are off to Sharjah.
Below is the very modern, very efficient arrivals terminal and immigration.
First, we have a great guide, an Iranian woman, with no headscarf, which she later explains – that the Quran says nothing about covering your hair or face, only to “cover your beauty.” She says that she covers sometimes, like for praying in the mosque, but she finds the abaya and headscarf are off-putting to her western tourist clients, and that people feel freer to ask her questions when she looks more like them. I found that to be compelling – that she believes in covering but that she also believes in eliminating barriers with her clients. I liked that she could hold those two ideas and make it work.
The trip was amazing. Sharjah is still quieter and somewhat less modern than Dubai and Abu Dhabi, although still built up in a more residential way. We started with a visual (in the bus) tour of a roundabout with beautiful official buildings – the court, the library, a mosque, surrounding a park, all very beautiful. Then we went to the Islamic Museum.
The Islamic Museum was impressive.
I leave the group; I zipped to the gift shop. It’s not that I am a rabid shopper, it’s that I do like to bring things back for people and I find the best quality at the best prices in museum shops. I found some wonderful things, very quickly, and moved on to a visiting Calligraphic exhibit, (I learned the glory of Islamic calligraphy at the Tarek Rejab Museum in Kuwait, a treasure trove of gorgeous Islamic scripts) and then I zipped up to visit the beautiful dome, gloriously painted with constellations and signs of the zodiac.
The dome crowns a beautiful reception room with comfortable chairs, and people looking up at this ceiling in wonder. It is beautiful.
From there, I went to the section on Islamic technology, where I exalted in astrolabes and exquisite instruments of measurement – I love good design. It thrills my heart to see the gorgeous design of these instruments created to do practical work, but which thrill the user with their beauty.
As I am there, I get a call from AM reminding me our time is almost up and it is time to meet. Here is a thing about Oceania excursions – we never had a single one where were were held up by a lagger. On all our tour, people paid attention to time expectations and met – or even exceeded – the instructions.
From the Islamic Museum, we headed to a fort, actually a re-creation of an actual fort which had been built on that exact spot. It had gorgeous pieces of ancient weaponry, guns, cannons, ammunition, suits of armor, and samples of early technology, such as goat skins used to store liquids, make yoghurt and butter. It was nearing sunset, and the late afternoon light loved the fort and it’s beautiful spaces.
You will see a picture later of the original fort; this fort has been re-constructed in the middle of a busy city to honor the Sheikh and to honor earlier traditions in Sharjah. Below is looking down into the well in the fortress.
I found this display below a bit bizarre, but maybe that’s just me?
Below is an Omani chest, with the nail-head decoration. This chest is used as a closet, holding a simile of the Sheikh’s wardrobe.
Another view of this modern apartment building; I would like to believe the snake-like figure is also calligraphic:
Last, we went to the Sharjah “souks.” We started off at the gold souks.
I like gold. I like real jewelry. The gold souks are overwhelming. Many of the shops are full of gold sets, the kind of gift a young bride is given by the groom’s family when she enters their family, a mail-like necklace/breastplate, and maybe earrings, a headpiece, sometimes handpieces, all matching, and all of which belong to her and provide her with some security in case down the line she is divorced or widowed. In theory, her bride price and her jewelry are hers to invest and manage. These sets are awesome to behold.
The sets are also intimidating. Maybe a movie-star could carry them off in our culture, but otherwise, they would draw too much attention. As we walk by shop after shop, I am dazzled and my heart beats faster, but when it comes to something for me, there is nothing. I remember how hard I had to look in places like Saudi Arabia, when gold was much cheaper, for pieces which were more modest and simple.
I buy nothing, except for at the end when AdventureMan and I have fresh-pressed juice; strawberry for him, and pomegranate for me. It is fresh juice, with no additives, and no sugar; there are pieces of fruit in the juice and it is delicious. These are times I really miss living in the Middle East.
As we are leaving, the sun has just gone down and the night has gone purple. It never fails to take my breath away. I only see this color in the Middle East, and it is just when the call to prayer begins to be called. Tonight there is a crescent moon. We are looking across the river at Dubai. The lights are twinkling, the call to prayer calls to our hearts, and families are gathering on woven mats to sit on the grass of the park across from the Mall. It is an exquisite time of the day and an experience of pure joy.
“So,” I can hear you asking, “The day is over. Where is the unanticipated adventure?”
Back at Nautica, we stand in line to pick up our passports for our departure the next day. I am handed my passport. AdventureMan’s passport is not there. The crew searches relentlessly, as we watch others easily access their passports. AdventureMan’s passport does not show up. It has not been returned by UAE Security. No one knows why.
We go through a bad couple of hours. I am trying to game what we will do if the problem is not resolved. This is an unusual circumstance, but this is the Middle East.
Security tells us his passport has been flagged because he was in Dubai in 2008 and they have no record of his exit. This is entirely possible. AdventureMan traveled a lot, in and out of many countries. Perhaps someone was talking with him as he departed and neglected to mark his departure. It’s all speculation. We really don’t know.
Finally, hours later, they relent, and an hour before the boat sails, his passport is returned by UAE officials.
We dine in our cabin, as we finish our packing. We need to have clothes for sleeping, clothes for disembarkation, and clothes for flying, including something warm for our transits through Brussels and Montreal. This entire trip has been a packing challenge, trying to anticipate temperature changes and comfortably appropriate clothing, including modesty requirements. Dinner is simple but relaxing, we finish off the wine we bought in Barcelona, and we jump up now and then to refine packing, make sure we have the appropriate paperwork, etc. We are greatly relieved to have AdventureMan’s passport back and we are also a little unnerved. We are hoping there will be no further problems as we leave Abu Dhabi.
We sleep well.
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: A Very Fine Day in Muscat, Oman
Overnight, Christmas has begun to happen on the Nautica. As I head up for my morning coffee in the Horizons Lounge, a decorated tree has magically appeared overnight. As the day goes on, more and more trees will appear. I am such a believer in Christmas. Today, we are approaching Muscat, a city I love, and there is a Christmas tree in Horizons! How can the day get any better?
A fabulous early morning sunrise is icing on the cake.
Coming in to Muscat.
We had been so disappointed to be in Muscat only for a few hours and to know that on Friday the Muttrah souk would not open until late afternoon. We had signed up for a dhow ride. We like dhows, and we are only in Muscat for such a short time! Once we discovered the souk would be opening early, and closing at the mid-day call for prayer, we decided to skip the dhow ride and take the shuttle into Muscat. Changing our plan changed everything. Our disappointment lifted; we felt empowered once again! We could choose our own adventure!
I head back to the cabin to check on AdventureMan. He is not there! Natalia, our cabin attendant, tells me he just left looking for me, he went THAT way, and I go to the cabin. I knew we could spend a lot of time chasing one another and that the best thing was to stay in one place. I spent a short time putting together a GO bag, water, etc, then he was back.
We went for breakfast and decided we are ready to go.
We meet with the local destination resource who gives us a good map, and we head for the shuttle, which arrives just as we leave the ship. There are Hop On Hop Off buses all lined up to take others on their adventures, too!
It takes us 300 yards to the immigration building, we get our little card and we get back on the bus. The driver takes us another mile and we are at the Muttrah Souk.
Much to my surprise, there is a lot of local activity. We are among the first to arrive, but there are local women doing their shopping, shopping for gold, with their babies, some with their husbands.
This man was so kind. He had just bought some freshly cooked Felafel, and AdventureMan asked him how much they were. He immediately went and bought some for AM, and refused to take any money for them. They were delicious. Of course, we bought from his shop.
We keep to the smaller back streets at first, and I look longingly in the beautiful gold souks, remembering days of long ago when I would admire, but know that nothing I was seeing (mostly bridal and dowry jewelry) would be anything I could wear in my life.
We also saw fabric shops and notions shops which made me drool, and I had to stop to admire – but not to buy. I know where my granddaughter gets her love for glitz – the gold trim dazzles me, but I have nowhere to wear it.
We wander around, nothing looks that familiar, and then suddenly, it does. We shop the back streets for perfume bottles, scarves/shawls for gifts, and something for the postman – we find him an Oman snow globe. We stop for drinks, in a central, shady restaurant where I have pomegranate juice and AM has strawberry – delicious and refreshing.
And it is HOT. We have been thinking it would be hot once we hit Haifa but were lucky to have cooler weather through Haifa and Luxor. Even at sea in the Red Sea, it has been comfortable. It didn’t get HOT until today.
The souks begin to fill up; the tour buses have finished their trips and are dropping the riders at the souks.
We were actually back on the boat by noon – the souks are just minutes away – and there was another fish soup for lunch. It tasted a lot like the bouillabaisse but was a zarzuela. After lunch, we hit the spa. We lay out on the divans for a short while but it was HOT. The Nautica departs at four.
Tomorrow we will arrive in Dubai, but not until noon or so, and then we have a trip to Sharjah, a small emirate that I have never seen. Then we have dinner and make sure our bags are packed and ready to go because our next stop is Abu Dhabi and disembarkation, which they say is very uncomplicated.
AdventureMan is restless, we go up for tea and to watch the ship depart. Joined by friends from England, we chatted about our day in Muscat. As we chatted, dolphins swam back and forth across the wake in the back of the boat.
Back in the cabin, at sunset, Ashok brought appetizers – egg rolls and two scones. We’ve been eating all day – lightly – but we will save the scones for dessert.
Living off My Fat: Adaptation
It probably all started growing up in Alaska, where my mother would measure us in July to order our snowsuits as soon as the new catalogs came out. We lived where ships didn’t come in the winter, so supplies for the winter needed to be ordered – and received – before the ships could no longer navigate the channel.
Then came our life in Germany, where we lived by what my sister called “Commissary rules.” Her one word of advice as a newlywed leaving Germany, while I was staying, was “When you see something in the Commissary or PX you think you MIGHT need, buy it.” Definitely a no-regrets philosophy.
When we were sent to live in Tunisia, in the late 1970’s, we were instructed to take everything we might need for the next two years. Some things – chocolate chips – we learned to live without. We adapted to new foods, new ways of doing things. One of the great treats was the fresh, gorgeous, silky olive oil; I would take my jar to the little olive oil vendor at the nearby souk and he would weigh my jar, fill it, subtract the weight of the jar and charge me for the oil, which made everything taste French.
I did have a two-year supply of shoes for a growing toddler, also clothing for him in graduated sizes, and two years of age-appropriate books I could pull out of the closet. We were able to mail-order through the embassy pouch, and my mother was able to mail me little extras. One year, when I was running the Christmas bazaar, she was able to find red and green Christmas fabrics in July, at a discount, and mail them to us for our crafting. It was such a luxury!
In Qatar, I was always bringing back duffels with quilting rulers and rotary cutters for my quilting friends. In Kuwait, it was books for my book club and American sugar for a friend who liked to bake. Kuwait had sugar, but more coarse, and American sugar melts more quickly for a finer result. Who knew?
There are items from the past I still have in abundance – dental floss, women’s underwear, shoes – and staples I buy but no longer use in the quantities I once did because we no longer live a life where we entertain a lot nor prepare for unexpected people on temporary duty who need a meal and an exchange of currency. I am trying to bring down my supplies of artichoke hearts and pimentos, beans and rice, canned tomatoes, chutney, Tupperware and hand soap.
My Little Free Library, one of the best birthday gifts ever, helps me keep my books from overflowing.
We are happy, these days, to be living with less. We are still caught by surprise by rolls of baking parchment we are still using from Kuwait, dental floss leftover from our years in Tunis and an excess of Christmas decorations we still need to pare down. We try to go easy on ourselves. “Ah,” we sigh, “it’s a process.” God grant that we live long enough to use up all those supplies we bought “just in case.”
Chasing Petroglyphs: Outfitting and Play in Denver
Even sleeping in, we are up early, due to the one hour difference in our body time from Denver time. We need a little breakfast, and head over to La Fillette for coffee and breakfast rolls.
Next stop, the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, one of our favorite places in Denver. AdventureMan wanted to see the visiting Egypt exhibit (and said it was a total WOW) and I wanted to visit the nature exhibits and see the visit to the Solar System, so we split up with an agreement to meet up for lunch.
There are several school groups in the museum, which I suppose I could count as Colorado Wildlife, but they were all so good, and I love to see children enjoying museums.
AdventureMan has had a spiritual adventure, viewing the Egypt exhibit, so he is ready to indulge me – I want to drive back downtown to the Union Station area and have Chinese noodles.
I grew up eating good Chinese food, in Seattle. When we were moving to Pensacola, our son sat us down and told us he had some bad news for us – there is no good Chinese restaurant in Pensacola. Nor in New Orleans. I am guessing that the deep south is not ready for the exotic tastes of real Chinese food.
But Denver is another story. We find our way downtown, and search the Union Square area, where a concierge tells us how to find it – just next door to Union Station.
This is living! The noodles are house-made, the tastes are fresh and delicious. My noodles are cooked, but cold, perfect on a hot summer’s day. We eat outside, because although it is hot, it is so dry we can manage the heat and we like eating outdoors. AdventureMan strikes up a conversation with another vet, a security guard, making sure the homeless do not intrude on the meals of the customers.
We find our way back to the parking lot, which is really expensive, and it takes us so long to figure out how to get out that our charge goes up again.
We are off to outfit for our trip – hitting our favorite Denver Target, we pick up our car staples – water, apples, oranges, crackers, peanut butter, and AdventureMan’s specialty, two kinds of snacks, a box of thick, chewy brownie bits and another box of lemony madeleines. He chose well; having only one or two a day, they lasted right up to the last day. We also invested in insect repellent and sun screen, which we never used. Our clerk mentioned the incoming blizzard.
Blizzard? We hadn’t heard of it. We headed back to the VRBO and our hosts were busy moving pots and pots, concerned that their lushly blooming garden will take a bad hit from freezing temperatures and snow and hail, the alder branches can break from the weight of the snow, all the blooms will freeze, and who knows what will survive?
We sort, we repack, and we take a nap. We have a great conversation with our hostess and say goodbye in advance; we have decided to leave early the next morning hoping to escape the worst of the storm. That night AdventureMan indulges me for a second time – this time we go to Q’s House on Colfax, get an outside table and oh-my the menu is short but fabulous. I have the Chong Qing Chicken and AdventureMan has Duck Lo Mein. We both have way too much, no matter how delicious it is. We decide to take a chance – we have a refrigerator and tomorrow should be really cold – so we pack it up and take it with us.
A perfect ending to an excellent first day.
Born Every Minute
One of my neighbors on NextDoor had seen these advertised around, and it was surprisingly inexpensive. He ordered, and, very chagrined, posted when it arrived, that it is just a box with a fan in the back and a tray for water. It is, indeed, a “cooler,” not an air conditioner, and has minimal effect.
I laughed, but occasionally I have also bought things which sounded too good to be true, and truly were – not what they were hyped up to be. Glad I’m not the only one.
JoAnn Gives Me a Breath of Hope
Just when I had begun to think our USA culture of tolerance and inclusion was a thing of the past, I opened my e-mail this morning to discover an ad from JoAnn fabric with Ramadan offerings.
It doesn’t get much more middle-America than a trip to JoAnn fabrics, where people are buying fabric to make their own clothes, re-upholster their own furniture or make their own quilts or Easter wreaths. I was delighted.
Here are some of the fabrics they are offering for our Muslim friends who are about to celebrate their month of fasting en route to the Eid.
How cool is that?
Dirty Pool
So no, I don’t always play fair. The really cool thing about being married for a long time is that your partner and you learn tolerance and forgiveness, and in a long marriage, you really need both. A lot of both.
I’ve had a yearning for a new couch. I’m not a material girl; the last couch I bought was in 1996, and it is still in the family, living a new life as a couch and spare queen-size guest bed in our son’s house. Soon they will also inherit the really good bunk beds I inherited from my youngest sister (also in 1996) and they still have the original mattresses, mattresses with cowboys on them! They will go to keep my old couch company.
I take my time. I’ve been looking at couches for about 18 months now. I took AdventureMan with me on a tour of furniture shops, from top to bottom, and we were in total agreement, nothing was right for us.
And then I found it.
It’s small enough for our smaller house. It’s leather, in a honey camel kind of color that I love to sit in when we are staying at places like El Tovar, or Old Faithful Inn, or Timberline Lodge. It’s a lodge kind of couch, comfy. You and your friend can sit on it and drink coffee and share your hearts and solve the problems of the world, or just cry at the occasional tragedies we all sometimes face.
And look at the legs! I need furniture that is off the ground to keep the appearance in my smaller house from being too cluttered. I like light. I love these beautiful hand-carved legs!
So I go into AdventureMan’s office with my choice, and for a few seconds (it feels a lot longer than it really was) he is silent. And then he says “the cats will scratch it.”
Here’s where the dirty pool comes in. I was horrible, I will admit it.
“Who knows how long we will be here to enjoy it?” I said. “I need a couch so you can stretch out when you want to watch something on the big television. It doesn’t have to last forever; we are not going to last forever.”
And then, worst of all I said “And my Mother wants me to have it.”
How bad do I feel?
I feel sort of bad. I was really packing some punches, but pulling the “Mom wants me to have it” punch was probably a low blow. When Mom died, she left some money to be divided among my sisters and me, and some for our children. We’ve been using some of it for travel and some for renovations, but the truth is, it’s all in one of our pots, and I don’t really keep track of it, AdventureMan and I have just combined it with other incomes to share with our family and make our lives comfortable and fun.
He’s been handling a lot of the improvements and renovations. I take care of furnishings.
The truth is, he is very good to me. He is practical, and the other truth is, our cats are cats. They are destructive. I don’t know how to keep them from clawing at a leather sofa, but whether the sofa is leather or fabric, the cats will claw it, and I need a couch in my life.
“Buy the couch,” he says.
I know he will like it once it arrives. I know he will stretch out on it and eventually, he will be glad we have it. I know the cats will scratch at it and we will yell at them and clap our hands, and it will probably look really awful – down the road. It’s not like I am going to live forever. Thank you, AdventureMan 🙂
An Edmonds Kind of Day in Pensacola
My husband had agreed to go to the Commissary with me today, and asked what time he needed to be up to go with me. “Oh, some time between 0830 and 0900 would be great.” I replied. He paled, his eyes were desperate, but he didn’t say a thing.
And he was up, early, and dressed and ready to go by 0830, which caught me by surprise, I had thought we would leave closer to nine. By quarter of nine, we were out the door and by 1000, we had finished at the commissary. I found everything I needed except radishes; I have a craving for fresh radishes, and the shelves at the commissary were a little bare.
When we reached home, my husband helped bring in all the groceries, then headed for a little bakery he discovered to pick up a sourdough baguette for dinner.
He had made a big pot of Bourride, a fish stew with aoili, the night before and wanted a rustic bread. He found Craft bakery next to a Japanese restaurant we like, and brought home two very crusty sourdough bagettes which we had loved. Today, however, the bakery was closed for the holidays.
“Nevermind,” I consoled him, “I’ve got the groceries put away; let’s go downtown for lunch, and walk through the Palafox market to see if they have any bread we like, and if they don’t, I can pick up a sourdough loaf at Joe Patti’s.” (I love Joe Patti’s sourdough bagette; they really know what they are doing. I also learned you can buy the loaves uncooked in the Joe Patti’s freezer section and bake them up yourself when you get home. Wow!)
As we are walking through the market, he remarks that this is just like Seattle. It’s a cloudy, cool, maybe a little gloomy morning with heavy overhanging clouds, and we are all involved with food – the quick trip to the commissary for basics, then the unfruitful trip to Craft Bakery, and now strolling through the market, which we often do summer Saturdays in Edmonds, Washington, or down in the Pike Place Market. You never know what you will find, but we alway find something delicious. Hand made apple sausages? Beautiful bouquets of flowers running $10 – $30? Fresh Dungeness crab, steamed in the shell?
Today, it is radishes, beautiful huge, delicious crisp radishes, which I love thinly sliced on – yep – a sourdough baguette.
We found all kinds of great vendors, even a bread vendor, but not the bread we were looking for.
The market was in full swing, and has been, we learned, since mid-September.
Strolling on, we headed for 86 Forks, in the old Pot Roast and Pinot location on Palafox, where we found spacious airy seating, and a place we could feel safe eating , no large crowd because we were early.
The concept is familiar – if you live in Seattle. You choose a base, in this case a noodle, then you choose a protein, a broth, then you choose up to four flavorings, then you can choose premium add-ons.
I chose the rice noodles with spicy tuna, Thai basil, peanuts, jalepeno slices and cilantro.
And AdventureMan had the rice noodles, spicy tuna, Napa cabbage, peanuts, green onions and cilantro. We agreed, it was a delicious lunch.
He added Sriracha, that’s what the red is in his noodles.
It was a great lunch, and we left just as others were coming, so it all worked out well. We went by Joe Patti’s, I ran in. The place was packed with beach-goers, buying out Joe Patti’s either to take for a week on the beach or to take back to Alabama, or Georgia, or Mississippi, or Texas . . . the parking lot was a mad house. I was in luck, there were no sourdough baguettes left, nor any other baguettes, but to the side was a sourdough boule, and a boule is just right for two people who intend to finish off last night’s bourride with aioli, and sourdough, and fresh market radishes.
For me, this was a wonderful day. It was cool, and comfortable. We found all kinds of goodies, and had a great walk through the market, both coming and going.
Edmonds, Washington is a beautiful little port city just north of Seattle with a ferry coming in and out to take you over to the Olympic Peninsula. Their slogan – It’s an Edmonds Kind of Day – means it doesn’t get much better. So we had an Edmonds Kind of Day in Pensacola.
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