Quick Trip to Bliss

Just some of the boats at the festival

I was sitting in my recliner, minding my own business, when I got an email from a photography group I subscribe to. They were offering a half day photo field trip entitled "Majestic Tall Ships". 

OK! Boats and photography? Sign me up!

The trip was the last Saturday in October, at the annual Chestertown Downrigging Festival on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. I know about this festival, but I had never been. There are a couple of tall ships based in Chestertown, and for the festival more ships come to join them for an end of season party (it turns out they are most gregarious). I almost went to the festival last year - via my own true love, the Pride of Baltimore II - but the timing didn't work for me. 

A detail from the fancy replica Swedish ship, Kalmar Nichol

Chestertown is an old town on a long river that winds many miles through the flat Eastern Shore peninsula from the Chesapeake Bay just north of the Bay Bridge. I've sailed up the Chester River in my boat, anchored and spent the night, but not made it quite as far as Chestertown. I did drive to the town once, on a winter weekend. I wandered the cobblestone streets, admired the old buildings with rippled glass, and spent quite a bit of time in a used book store with an extensive maritime collection, and ate a crab cake with a beer. But that was years ago and I hadn't been back.

Once I signed up for the photo workshop, I contemplated logistics. Chestertown is about two hours away, if traffic on the Bay Bridge is reasonable. This is a very big "if". The workshop started early in the morning, and I would want to start early enough to enjoy a buffer to the start time. So I decided to check out the options to go the night before and stay in Chestertown.

I was sad to check out lodging options and discover that the few options not sold out were very expensive. Big city expensive. Except for one motel, absurdly cheap and by far the closest location to the waterfront. I'm a penny pincher but not a completely stupid, so I read reviews. Generally, they said "clean enough but really run down". I went with the cheapo option.  And, because I would be on my feet all day (I signed up for a boat ride in the afternoon after the workshop) I thought I would look at staying the two nights. I really wasn't sure what my stamina would be like. I might want a crab cake and a beer after my day on my feet, and driving home in the dark might not be great. El Cheapo was so cheap I could sign up for two nights for less than one in any other option.

The one on the left is my girl, the Pride
The one on the right is the Lynx

I headed out Friday night in the late afternoon, with camera equipment, some snack foods, and a sleeping bag liner and my own pillow. Oh, and a door stop in case I didn't like the lock on the door. I came into Chestertown just a few minutes after sundown, along the waterfront, and the silhouettes of masts and rigging teasing the delights in store for me the next day. The GPS took me to the motel, which was good because there was no sign visible from the road. I had to be buzzed into the office, where a perfectly pleasant young man checked me in and handed me my key. My room was just down from the office in a well-lit location, and I checked out the room. Remembering my "avoid bedbugs" advice I didn't bring in my stuff at first, but reviewed the situation. I pulled up the sheets and looked at the mattress - it looked new, as did the bed linens and pillows. The tiny bathroom had cheerful colorful tile the same vintage and pattern as mine at home and showed its age. But it and the towels were acceptably clean. There was a standard motel heating and cooling unit in the wall under the window, and I got it going. The door had a solid deadbolt that went into a metal frame on the door. I decided that compared to car camping in a state park, (I actually had one spotted as backup) this motel with new sheets was luxury, and it would be fine for the night.

I headed into town to check out the rendezvous for the morning, and to see what could be seen. Things were jumping! Traffic and pedestrians crowds everywhere. After getting orientated, I headed back to the motel. Despite its location across a parking lot from a large liquor store, it was quiet and I felt safe. It was late enough I went to bed with a book and then had a fine night's sleep. The one thing really wrong with the room was, though it had a microwave and little refrigerator, there was no way to make coffee. I had brought instant coffee with me, (part of my travel kit) but there was no cup to hold water in the microwave! I ended up driving a half mile to a McDonalds, maybe the first time in a decade I've been to one. But I do still like a sausage mcmuffin.

My girl
(There was actually very little wind, so the sails are for show)

I made the rendezvous with no problem. The early start meant good free parking. There were about a half dozen photographers there with the instructor, easily identified by their big cameras and backpacks full of lenses and other equipment. (I have a single all in camera because I decided a few years ago I was done with the schlep. It's still a very good camera, with many bells and whistles for adjustments that I am still learning how to use. But it's comparatively light and small.)

We had a fabulous, unseasonably warm, bright and cloudless day. There was a forest of masts from the tall ships. There were also many smaller classic craft, both sailboats and classic motor boats, some of which reminded me of the boats that were common on Bellport Bay in my youth. The big boats were available for deck tours, with crew providing answers to questions. Mid morning, the boats all went out for sails, and we got pictures of them underway from shore. In the afternoon, our workshop was done but most of us stayed and took afternoon sails. It was so fun to all head down the river and back up in company. Many of the smaller craft came with us. I was aboard a smaller schooner that is the official tall ship of the state of New Jersey, the AJ Meerwald. I was purely deck cargo, shifting out of the way of the crew working the ship, and gazing all around. And taking lots and lots of pictures!

The big one is the Kalmar Nichol.
She is a replica of a ship that came to Delaware Bay
in the early 1600s.

I figure I've actually spent cumulatively about six weeks aboard Pride of Baltimore II. I have a gazillion photos of her, all taken from aboard. I enjoy staring up the mast and with my camera capturing patterns and rhythm from the sails and rigging. But it was so fun to see the Pride from another ship, and to be able to get the whole ship in a single photo!

When we got back to the dock in the evening, I was done. It had been very hot, in the 80s, and I was fatigued in every muscle in my body. I strolled slowly into town, and fulfilled my quest for ice cream, which I ate while sauntering back to the car. I went back to El Cheapo Motel, and I took the world's quickest shower, checked out, and drove home in the dark. It was worth the extra night's charge just to have that shower. I was thrilled to get back home with the Cult de Sac party still underway, so I had a chance to chat with some neighbors and drink a beer before tumbling into bed. 

I did absolutely nothing the following day. I was wiped. But it was fabulous and worth it.

Why Don't Americans Have Electric Kettles?

My new drinks station

I've been trying to change some old habits that don't serve me well. In a coaching process I've been following,  they talk about using new habits with a "bigger better offer" to replace the old habits you want to quit. 

For years, I've known I have a late night eating habit. As I've been tuned into my body more I've found it's not always sweets I want, but real food. That is, real food with a comforting vibe. As I've made a point of buying only good bread and always having it sliced and on hand in the freezer, I've found myself having a thick slice or two of toast and butter and cheese or jam, right before bed. I doubt there is much health benefit in turning aside from chocolate and towards toast, but it's easier to convince myself I am truly hungry and I need something when the "something" is at least slightly closer to healthy than chocolate.

Also for years, I've tried to develop a before-bedtime tea habit. I like many herbal teas, and I like the warm beverage, and I like the idea of tea before bed. But I haven't been able to make it stick. I tried a ritual of using a teapot (I have two) and pouring out a cup or two, but that actually seemed like a lot of work compared to grabbing something right from the fridge. I know I am tuned to visual cues, and sometimes it is just a matter of even remembering tea as an option for me. So, I moved my teas into a clear box that lived on the kitchen counter. Sadly, that soon became part of the background and never drove a new ritual. When I have remembered the option of "tea instead", it hasn't felt appealing and I've turned away and reached for the easy sweet or starch.

Well, what else motivates me? Anyone who knows me knows I love a good new gadget! I happened on a sentence somewhere (no remembrance where) that said, "why don't Americans have electric kettles?".  I immediately answered that for myself: because I don't have space for another appliance. But I was taken with the thought of how much easier and quicker an electric kettle is than boiling water in a saucepan on the stove (and then slopping it when pouring from the pan into a mug or teapot) or in a pyrex jug in the microwave, needing to negotiate the hotpad to handle and pour. And so I took another look at my kitchen.

I strive to keep my counters relatively clear in my small kitchen. The only appliances that live on the countertops are daily use: microwave, toaster/convection oven, coffee maker, seltzer maker. I store other appliances (instant pot, food processor, rice cooker) in a low cabinet that is at capacity. I don't have a blender specifically because I don't know where I can store it. I have a bin for onions and other non-refrigerated vegetables on the countertop - I would put them out of sight in the cabinet if I could figure out a spot. But I had this box of teas sitting out on the counter from my failed attempt at visual cuing! If I could reconfigure the food cabinets to find space for the tea below, I could then put an electric kettle in that same spot, next to the coffee maker. 

So in order to cultivate my tea habit, I totally cleaned out my major food cabinet. I don't have a pantry closet in my kitchen- food lives in the fridge or in this cabinet, or with the onions in a bin, or on shelves in the basement. I consider the basement to be for "extra" stuff - I stocked up early in the pandemic, and have kept duplicate soups and beans and grains down there, but not things I'm going to grab every day. I took all the cans, bottles, jars, and boxes out of the cabinet and reviewed mostly expiration dates. I am fairly casual on the dates - things don't go bad overnight, and I figure if I'm cooking well, it'll kill most things. I do some weeding of expired foods all the time, but it had been a while since I looked at everything. By the time I had chucked things more than a year past the expiration date and rationalized with what was in the basement, I had room for a tidy box of teas in the cabinet. 

Part of my pantry cabinet, with tea bottom right

By then, I had already ordered an electric kettle and it was due to arrive the next day. I decided to further create a sense of indulgence around tea by acquiring a new cup to be especially for what I hoped would become a nightly habit. So I took a trip to where the rich people live and went to Crate and Barrel!

When I lived in Chicago in the 1980s, Crate and Barrel was a way of life. I probably went there a couple of times a month. I eat on a Crate and Barrel dining room table, drink from my Crate and Barrel glasses, and sleep on my Crate and Barrel bed, every single day. I remember when Ikea arrived in this country, I explained it to some people as a cheaper mass-market version of Crate and Barrel. (When I wanted to take my girl with me to Crate and Barrel when she was in high school, I described it as an upscale Ikea.)  I still love their housewares, even though their furniture has gone completely over the top and out of reach. So if I wanted a special mug, C&B was my destination.

I spent a long time admiring absolutely everything in the store. I had just read a novel about rich people from the upper east side of NY, and the vision of a C&B house decorated for Christmas entranced me. White, white, white, with accents of rich red and gold, and very rare dark green bits. Lights and candles everywhere! But I managed to restrain myself, (I do not need and cannot store a completely new holiday dish service!) and I got only a couple of new little ornaments, a cute Christmas mug, and two new mugs for tea (they were only $4 and $5 each!). Also a couple of Christmas presents for my kids who are prime housewares ages.

So far, I'm 3-for-3 nights with my cup of tea. So far so good, after my investment of a couple of hours of cabinet cleaning and a couple of hours round trip to C&B. I love my electric kettle, with 90 seconds to ready to pour! I love my new, clean-lined C&B mugs! My favorite tea is lemon-ginger, but I have a couple of others as well to rotate through, and I look forward to exploring more varieties. Am I cutting back my late night nosh? Well, I'm not really focused on "tea instead" so much as "tea first". If I still want something afterwards, I'll go get it. But so far, I haven't wanted anything else.

What are your favorite teas? Let me know in the comments!

Fifteen Years

Not a day goes by without missing her.

Tidbits: Food and Eating

 Here's a few miscellaneous points, mostly about food and eating. I'm so aware of the privileges I have: both time and money to control most of what and when I eat. The tidbits below reflect where I am right now, not necessarily any kind of a model for me or anyone else.

• I'm really really trying on mindful eating. To that end, I am trying to break one very long-standing habit: I no longer read while eating alone, whether a meal or a snack. And I even try to avoid listening, at least to words (no podcasts, books or radio). I'm trying to concentrate on what I'm eating. I'm trying to slow down, smell and taste, really pay attention. As it turns out, rumination can take me away just as completely as some books, but I am continually trying to come back to the food - what am I eating, how do I feel in my body as I eat? I've been living alone for 42 years, for 42 years the majority of my meals have been alone, this is a huge habit for me!

• I am doubling down on Michael Pollan's advice:
  Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.
  I think this covers what are right now termed "ultra-processed foods", which Pollan would call "food-like substances".  I'm not interested in cooking absolutely everything from scratch (I'm not going to bake my own bread or make my own yogurt or smoke my own bacon) but I am reading lots of labels and buying things with less processing. Fresh bread from the bakery, not packaged breads filled with fillers and preservatives. Tortilla chips made in the store, not shipped in the bag. And always, always, trying to eat more veggies.
  

• There are certain fresh foods that I pretty much only buy at the farmer's market when in season. Corn on the cob, peaches, and large tomatoes come to mind. I've not found store-bought versions, even fresh and labeled "local" to be any where as good. I do use frozen corn and canned tomatoes other times, but I won't bother buying fresh.

• Other veggies, like eggplants and broccoli and zucchini, are better at the farmer's market, but the difference seems less. However, I was shocked one time by the difference. Early in the summer, I bought a cute little cabbage at the market and shredded it and made a vinaigrette cole slaw to eat that day and it was so good I still remember it! Before that, cabbage would have been my poster child for "no difference". But cabbage still is acceptable as it gets old, just has to be treated differently.
  

• I live alone, and shopping is often an exercise in restraint. Fresh food doesn't keep long, that's just the way it is. I try to restrict myself to only one or two vegetables in a supermarket shopping trip, with a specific plan about what I will make when. I don't cook every day - often there are leftovers and even my schedule can get full - and so I have to pay close attention.  But I'm able to get to the store often, with my loose schedule.
  
  
• Restraint is much harder at the farmer's market, since there is so much that is so appetizing, it's only available for a short time, and I often am not able to get there every week. But, unless I'm sharing with others, two ears of corn (eat that night), four peaches (one a day), and three tomatoes (one a day) seems to avoid throwing things away.
   
• I don't want to cook elaborately very often. In the past, I often relied on convenience foods and bottled sauces to get dinner together quickly. I'm now trying to avoid bottled sauces because many of them contain odd ingredients. So I'm cooking from recipes more than I used to - but probably not more than once a week. I also strive to portion out and freeze meals from the leftovers because my tolerance for the same thing might be three days at most.
  
  
• I am aware I have a habit of getting involved in something in the afternoons and then in mid-afternoon realizing I'm very hungry and I don't have the energy or will to cook something from scratch. I'm tackling the habit by consciously trying to start cooking much earlier in the day, sometimes eating "dinner" in mid-afternoon. This also requires planning light meals or snacks for the early evening, so I don't grab the cookies.
  
  
• I do still buy convenience foods for when I'm tired and don't have leftovers. Frozen meals from Trader Joe's or Whole Foods still have long lists of ingredients but can be tasty. There is a line of frozen foods at Whole Foods, "Saffron Road", that has a very tasty lamb saag. And Trader Joe's has a saag paneer that is really good. But I'm much better at managing my own leftovers from the freezer, so the processed store bought ones are much less of my diet right now.
  
  
• I discovered I can air fry frozen vegetables right from the freezer! So much tastier than microwaved! That helps me add veggies to the diet when I don't have fresh ones hanging around. And I do indulge myself sometimes in the conveniently pre-cut veggies at Whole Foods, though the markup is appalling and makes me ashamed of myself. (It's not the money, per se, it's the laziness.) I know I won't cut up a butternut squash - way too much hard work - so I've been buying the cubed stuff. Today, I found a peeled-and-cut-in-half butternut, wrapped in plastic. It was half the price of the cubed stuff, so I'm going to give it a whirl.
  
• Finally, a recipe. This unusual chili is probably the most elaborate thing I make, though really it’s not that much. But it’s also got the most complex and intriguing tastes and textures of anything I make. I’ve made it several times, usually with fake vegan meat, though most recently with turkey since it was for just me. It lends itself to slow and mindful eating by virtue of its complexity and goodness. Highly recommended. https://www.washingtonpost.com/recipes/turkey-and-butternut-squash-chili/. (If the recipe is firewalled and you want it, let me know and I can put a copy in the comments.)

What Have I Learned From 35 Years of Tracking My Weight

Would I like to lose weight? Yes.

Will I lose weight? Maybe.

Look at this picture (if you are on a phone turn it sideways):

The horizontal grid lines are ten pounds apart.
The blue line was my goal weight for most of this time period.
The red line is a place I'd be happy to be now.

This is the last 35 years of my life, as told by my weight. Key on the numbers:

1. 1988: I join weight watchers for the first time, at age 33. The weight I was then is a weight I would love to be now!
   
2. 1997: I move from Chicago to DC for a major career change, the same week my father dies. After about a year settling in, I buckle down and lose weight.
   
3. 2008: My sister dies unexpectedly, resulting in a major lifestyle change as I become a parent in the midst of grief.
   
4. 2010: I start this blog, determined to gain control over at least the physical parts of my life as life with grief-stricken adolescents remains chaotic. I de-emphasize work.
   
5. 2019: I retire, which blows up every habit I ever had. And then the pandemic strikes.
   
6. 2022: I embrace "intuitive eating", buying and eating whatever I want whenever I want.
   

Why do I keep coming back to this picture? Am I just wallowing in fact that my current weight is right up at my all time peak from 25 years ago? What can I learn by looking at this history, enriched with other stories of my life? Memories are faulty, but here my actual weight is recorded accurately. Looking back over this blog has also been helpful, to color in what was going on in my life during the ups and downs recorded on the graph. Here are some tidbits I've gleaned from anchoring my other memories in the truth of my weight:

• Losing a lot of weight for me is likely to happen relatively quickly, if at all.
• Not paying attention to what I eat and what I weigh means I'll gain weight.
• Each significant weight loss involved eating low carb a lot of the time, not eliminating sweets entirely, and never choosing low-calorie formulations of real food but instead cooking and eating more vegetables and meat from scratch.
• Each significant weight loss required a great deal of attention and focus, taking up bandwidth in my life.
  
• Each weight loss period was also associated with increased exercise and conscious activity levels.
  

How might I turn the above information into actual weight loss? Do I have the motivation and interest to focus on this? Stay tuned, I guess, because I don't know the answer yet.

California Dreamin'

 

View from the dorm

Wow, is northern California absolutely beautiful! And, it seems my girl is in love with it. And with school. And with the people she has met so far. I'm feeling she is well launched! 

The last week before leaving was fraught, indeed. Many last minute errands, several farewells (her brother threw her a going-away party!), and tears as we said goodbye to the dogs and drove off to the airport. But through all of this, "It's gonna be great!" was the mantra, even if sometimes through gritted teeth.

We got to SFO mid-day, and drove the almost two hours to Santa Cruz nonstop, going directly to Target to buy the essentials we didn't get in advance. By then we were exhausted, so off to the motel for a rest, before venturing out in the car to get more fully oriented. I was astounded by the change in terrain from the relatively flat and green town by the water, up the mountain through brown meadows to the wooded top part of campus where the dorm is. My ears popped on the way up, every time. We found our appointed unloading spot for the next morning, located one of her classroom buildings, and drove randomly around the mountainous campus, and then down to the waterfront campus three miles away where one of her classes would be. The main campus, not even including the coastal campus, is enormous and beautiful, stretching a couple of miles up and down the mountain, and about a mile across. It is completely separate from the town. There are clusters of housing units with food and various amenities, called colleges, and other clusters of the academic classrooms, laboratories, and libraries. They are designed into the landscape so that you don't see buildings until you are one them.

Evening view from overlook,
halfway up the mountain to campus

We got takeout dumplings from across the street from the motel. There was (yet another) orientation zoom session she had to be on in the evening, and she also wanted to take her time doing her hair in the privacy of our motel bathroom (before having to be in the gang bathrooms). After eating, I pretty much crashed out while she seemed to be having a good time on the zoom call. I fell into my signature hour-long deep sleep the minute I closed my eyes, but woke up when she came back into the room after facetiming with a friend in the motel courtyard. We both tossed and turned, dozed and woke, off and on for the rest of the nervous night.

Dorm from parking lot
Many stairs involved!

My girl had astutely signed us up for an 8:15 unloading slot, so we were among the first wave of cheerful students and parents rolling laundry hampers full of luggage and bedding and boxes around parking lots and into the dorms. Her room is a large triple, and she got first pick of the beds. All of the setups were the same - lofted upper single bunks with wooden desks and wardrobes under each one. She picked the one that seemed like it would have a view into the redwood grove behind the dorm from the bed! 

We had a flurry of opening bags and unboxing things, laying out power strips and surge suppressors, while waiting for roommates to show up. No-one joined us, and we decided to head back out to Target to knock items off the new list of more useful stuff we had been compiling while we unpacked and set up. It felt familiar to go back to the same store, but we also saw a Bed, Bath and Beyond with a final liquidation clearance and went in. We scored some high-end sheets as her second set for a pitifully low amount of money. 

After Target we went to a Hawaiian poke bar I had spotted on the map, and we got the absolute best poke bowls ever. But we had to hustle back for the first event happening on campus. 

Digressive anecdote follows:

The bed that trapped me

As she went off to the orientation thing, I decided to stay and set up the new foam pad and mattress cover and make up her bed. I pulled the plastic wrap off the compressed foam mattress topper, and from the ladder at the foot of the bed started unrolling it, and got the rest of it laid out while standing on the floor at the side and head of the bed. As the foam continued to puff up, I climbed back up the ladder at the foot and flung the top of the white fabric mattress cover as far towards the head of the bed as I could, and then tucked in the foot. The cover stuck to the foam pad, so from the floor I pulled and tugged to get it deployed over the rest of the top of the bed. I reached between the wooden bed frame and the wall to get at the cover from the head, and my arm was suddenly stuck! I couldn't pull my elbow back out through the small gap between the frame and the wall, even though I had gotten it in there somehow!

It was hilarious, and scary. I was alone in her securely locked dorm room - only the coded ID card could unlock the door from the outside. My arm wasn't uncomfortable while stuck in there, but no matter how I twisted and maneuvered, it wouldn't come out. I couldn't move the heavy wooden bed frame, anchored in place with the heavy wooden desk and newly stuffed with clothes wardrobe pushed against it. I tried to climb up the bedframe to slide my arm out the top of the frame, but I couldn't cling to the frame with my arm stuck. Feeling like Lucy Ricardo, I contemplated my next options.

My right arm was stuck, my left arm was free. My phone was in my lower cargo pocket on my right leg. I might be able to reach it, and one-handed dial my girl, but I pictured dropping it, having to remove my shoes and socks with only my feet to pick it up with my toes. Besides, the cell phone coverage in her room was lousy. Then I had an image of the missing roommates coming in with parents to find me stuck there and barefoot. 

That wouldn't do, so with a mighty shove by my stuck right hand and a pull with my free left hand, I moved the heavy wardrobe an inch. Then I could slide the bed just the half inch I needed, and I was free! Just as I was rubbing my poor red but free elbow, my girl came back in.

Return to main narrative:

At 3 that first afternoon, there was a half hour reception, introduction of some staff, and a very pointed dismissal of parents to allow the students to attend some mandatory meetings and optional additional events. We were each on our own. I went to the beach.

Santa Cruz has a road along the waterfront, with several parking areas every few blocks. There is a walking / biking path right along the cliff edge - the water is several yards down from the land. The weather was severe clear, and the California sun felt like it had a different quality than we get in the east. The temperature was perfect though the fierce sun meant that often you need a sweater in the shade but long for shorts and a skimpy top in the sun. I walked and sat on benches and read, content to be in such a beautiful place and rejoicing that my girl seemed to be settling in.

Saturday morning we exchanged texts, and set up a tentative evening rendezvous. Knowing she would be so busy, I floated the idea of going home early, but that received a lukewarm reception. So I decided to embrace leisure and tourism.

Seals under the wharf

Amusement park from the wharf

Santa Cruz also has a downtown, a municipal wharf, and an amusement park on a boardwalk by the beach. I drove out to the wharf, and spent time walking the wharf, people watching and then also seal watching. I went to a dog beach, and spent a very long time watching the canine and human interactions. I read on a bench on the sea cliff in the sun. From the motel, I walked to a beer garden (passing three other beer gardens on the way) and had a lovely lunch. 

My girl managed to squeeze me in for about an hour Saturday night, during which time we drove around downtown and stopped at Trader Joe's for a couple of necessities. But she had to get back to campus to attend a forest rave with her new friends. Also, one of her roommates had appeared and she wanted to spend some time with her. We set up another tentative rendezvous for the next night.

State park beach, with Coastal Campus seen in the background

So Sunday, I went to a lovely fancy breakfast at a downtown cafe. Then, I went to see Oppenheimer. (I opted against Barbie, because I was afraid that on a weekend daytime showing there might be kids.) While in the movie, I got a text from my girl saying she was downtown having lunch with friends, and would be happy to meet me there when she was done. The timing worked well. We met up easily ("downtown" is not that big) and wandered together for a while. We made another brief shopping trip for some more necessities (this time at CVS) and I dropped her off after a couple of hours. She had some pre-work to do before classes the next day. I had time to walk to ice cream and the beach, and one more trip to pick up a useful item for my girl at a hardware store (a flashlight - they have already had a power outage in her dorm!)

First day of school,
Grade 15

Her first class was at 9 am at the Coastal Campus. As I didn't need to leave for SFO until 9:30, I volunteered to pick her up and drive her to class. As a rule, she will take the bus, unless she manages to find a fellow student who drives. So Monday morning, I went to the usual pickup spot, and enjoyed a few minutes in the redwood grove while waiting. While she might have been pleased to just hang out and party with her new friends, she exclaimed that she loved her pre-work, was absolutely convinced she was studying the right thing. Biology is her jam. 

My trip home was long but completely uneventful. And, I am so happy for my girl, embracing the next step of her life with gusto! Her dad picked me up at the airport and was also thrilled to hear she is doing so well!

My Ireland: History, Whiskey and Beer

The stars are where we spent the nights

I loved my trip to Ireland! If I were to be totally honest, in terms of frequency, my experience was not quite the order I have it in the title. It would more accurately be Beer, History, and Whiskey, but I went for the lovely rhythm. It's kind of the Irish way.

This was my first trip with this set of folks. We had my Boat Partner (BP), her husband the history guy (HG), and their good friend, Mr. Irish Boyo. (IB). I have spent a great deal of time with BP, sometimes in unpleasant or difficult circumstances, so I knew we were likely to be compatible for travel. Since they've been married for 40+ years, I also know HG, and while we are totally different people, I like him quite a bit. IB was an unknown quantity, but he came highly recommended.

I did none of the planning - it was primarily a scouting trip for future forays by IB, who was in the role of our native guide. He has a lot of Irish heritage and feeling, but had only been in-country for a two week tour twenty years ago, but that made him a comparative expert. So he laid out a suggested itinerary and asked for feedback and help scheduling hotels. The idea was to hit certain specific historical and cultural points, with as many different pubs and beers as could be worked in. It all worked fine.

Lovely green countryside

We flew non-stop from Newark to Dublin, the cheapest non-stops available when IB booked the flights six months ago. (IB spelled my name wrong in the reservation, an error I didn't have a chance to discover until we got to the airport, and I spent an unpleasant hour with Air Lingus customer service getting it fixed, but it finally worked out. Note to self: make sure to double check oneself, don't rely on others. And arrive early at the airport.) The flight arrived at 5 am local time, so we got some coffee and our first Irish scones at the airport while we figured out transport into town. We opted for the local bus, and were in downtown Dublin at 6:00 am. With our not-insignificant baggage, standing on a deserted street corner, every business in sight shuttered We couldn't get to the AirBnB until the afternoon. As a result, we dragged our luggage around quite a bit (had to stop for more coffee and scones) before we finally found a place to store them. Hooray for the app Luggage Hero! 

BP, IB, HG, and me in yet another pub

Our biggest difficulty was very few things were open early. This turned out to be the case everywhere we went. Restaurants listed under "breakfast" opened at 8:30, 9:00 or even 10:00! Even some hotel restaurants started serving at 8:30. Because we wanted to cover so much territory, we wanted to be up and out each day. We found that there was the occasional coffee shop open early, and while they looked like pastry-only places, to our delight most of them served the "Full Irish Breakfast" that we soon loved. Fried eggs, "bacon" (looked like ham), my very favorite Irish sausage, black or white pudding (don't google it), baked beans, and toast. Luckily, we found such a coffee shop the first day (for what by some counts was Third Breakfast). We also found during our road trip many gas stations that had surprisingly good cafes inside - fresh baked goods, good coffee, hot cafeteria-type service (more sausage!) We didn't try them for anything other than breakfast, I have doubts about how good they would be for dinner.

From left: IB, BP, HG, and me

By noon on our first day we were ready to get to the Guinness brewery. They have a six-story "visitor experience" building, not tours, but it was well done. We also learned how to pour a pint with a perfect head on it, and sample some of their other beers. This was a good launch for the Beer portion of our tour. IB is a real beer guy, with a tap room in his basement that displays his collections of stolen beer glasses and coasters, and an app to keep track of everything he's tried with notes. With a brief quiet chat with the bartender, he added to his display collection right off on the first day.

Every dinner, and a few lunches, were in pubs, and were very good. There was a sameness to the menus, generally hot sandwiches and chips (fries), fish and chips, usually something more ambitious such as broiled fresh fish, sometimes other traditional Irish food such as lamb stew. I liked it all. The chips were especially good, and just chips and beer could be dinner some nights. I managed to find a few afternoon ice creams, but generally sweets were not in our plans, as most don't go so well with the beer. The first thing we'd do upon entering a pub was to scan the taps. Guinness was always there, along with their related brands, plus Coors and Corona and an Italian beer often showed up. But often there was also one or two taps dedicated to a local brew, and that usually became our choice. I learned what I liked, but didn't stick to it. Experimentation was the name of the game.

Early morning in Wexford

Walking through the cities is one of the great pleasures of traveling. Sadly, I am out of condition and feeling my bad knee. The first day, according to my fitbit, we covered nine miles, much of it hauling around our baggage. None of the other days hit that total, but still there was enough walking to double my average steps from the previous month. I went slow, and I sat whenever I could, but I got everywhere I wanted to get. Many of the ruins and castles we visited had hills or stairs, and the stairs in particular slowed me way down. When we were at a history stop or in a city, we often split up during the day, and I could amuse myself with my camera and not feel like I was holding anyone back. We learned how to take buses in Dublin --google maps to tell us what to look for where, excellent real time signage, all fares 2.60 exact change -- and BP and I rode in the front seat of a double decker all along the river front, big fun. Taxis were available to flag down, and Uber had an arrangement so the app would summon a taxi (with roof light and meter) and you would pay through the app like usual. I guess there aren't drivers using their own cars there.

Wexford waterfront

We picked up a rental in downtown Dublin the second day and headed out of town in the pouring rain. IB was our driver, and BP his co-pilot. Those first few miles, with a lot of traffic all on the wrong side of the road, we were all helping co-pilot, as we got used to traffic circles and cryptic road signs. We had phone-based navigation, which took us on all sorts of roads, including narrow tracks with signs saying "oncoming traffic in the middle of the road". It was fun watching IB learn to drive, and BP learn how to help him out. We checked off each new accomplishment (passed someone on an expressway! passed someone on a two lane road! 15-point turn on an unpaved lane with ditches!) By the end, when we returned to Dublin, IB was relaxed and confident.

Just a random ruin we stopped at

Our group dynamics also grew more relaxed and confident. I realized that HG was going to zig and zag as he saw a new squirrel to chase, and he couldn't pass anyone without striking up a conversation (I said we were very different.) IB and I grew more relaxed as we got to know each other. I knew we were doing OK, though. On the third morning, we were cranky (annoying hotel, no breakfast yet, changing plans on the fly without discussing it) when IB smashed his finger during the daily assembly of the 3D puzzle that was our luggage in the small car. He said (I paraphrase) "fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck FUCK". As we got in the car, someone said, in a small voice, "fucking luggage". Someone else said "fucking hotel". Someone else said, "no fucking breakfast". "Fucking small cars." "Fucking hotel clerk". It went on, and we were all dissolving into giggles as we hit the road. 

From the outside, the castle-ie-ist castle on a city street

We made bunches of history stops. There were ruined castles everywhere, many of them open to be explored. We stopped at battle sites and markers and a museum for the Irish rising in 1798. HG had created and is marketing a board game about the conflict, after meticulous research (everything hinged on whether or not the French landed their army). In Cork, we visited an island that had served as a fortress and prison in the 19th and 20th century. IB's grandfather escaped to America from Cork during the Irish Civil War in the 1920s, but would have ended up in that prison had he not run in time. I don't know so much about the convoluted history of Ireland, but had done enough reading to understand how Ireland was England's first colony, and served as a testing ground for many colonial policies used elsewhere in the empire. 

Big 19th century house repurposed as contemporary abbey

Much of the preparation I had made for the trip was reading novels with Irish settings and scenes. I was happy to find connections. I read This is Happiness, by Niall Williams, set in a small village in 1950. It's your basic coming-of-age story, but the backdrop is the coming of electricity to the village. I was thrilled to read a display in a museum about Rural Electrification in 1950's Ireland, and to see many of the dynamics that played out in the book be reflected there (maybe the author had seen the same display?) In a still-functioning but open to the public abbey, I read about how suppression of the Catholic orders and indeed education for Catholics from Henry VIII through Cromwell and right up to the twentieth century led many religious orders  to establish Irish foundations in France and Spain. This abbey had finally moved back to Ireland from France during the First World War, but they walled up their precious relicts in the catacombs back in France. This was, indeed, a plot point in a book I read that takes place during the First World War! 

We toured two whiskey distilleries, Tullamore DEW, in Tullamore, and Jameson, in Dublin (they don't actually make whiskey in Dublin anymore so it was another "visitor experience"). The Tullamore one was fabulous! Irish coffee to start, a complete tour including a sample right from the barrel in the aging warehouse, and more samples and guided tasting. Jameson was cheesy, but fun, and also included guided tasting. 

Our very own castle!

We stayed in two AirBnBs and the rest hotels. Often we had a hotel on the outskirts of town (much cheaper), so the Uber/taxi was useful to get us to walk around towns and visit pubs. One AirBnB was a castle! We had the whole castle to ourselves, seventy-five steps high to get out onto the battlements. It was basically a square tower, with one function for each floor, so not only did we each get our own bedroom, but we had our own floor! There were great handholds available for the spiral staircase, and especially for the transition required from staircase to floor at each level - it involved a bit of jockeying for me, to make sure I stepped up with my good leg each time. The castle was in the middle of nowhere, so we stopped at a grocery store and bought food and drink to carry us through. It could have been cold, but both the flooring and the bed were heated. We met the hosts outside in the morning (they live in a cottage nearby) and heard a bit about the restoration. They are booked almost always, so hopefully their labor of love / investment is paying off.

My castle bedroom

My castle bedroom also came with its own canon

All of the castle details were exquisite

Castle stairs, with rope for handhold

One comment on Irish wiring. They use the UK electricity plugs, and each plug also had an on-off switch, sometimes some distance from the plug itself. Both AirBnB showers had a distant on/off switch on a wall outside the bathroom, and then an electrical unit inside the shower with an on-off switch that created the hot water and water pressure. Never saw such a thing before, but I have read in novels about British old houses with retrofitted bathrooms with "geysers" to heat the water for each bathtub. I guess this is the latest version of that.

Cobh, from the island in the harbor

My favorite stop was Cork, and the associated small town of Cobh. It was a very sweet small town (very accomodating to tourists). This is where we went out to the island in the harbor for a half day. I spent my time outside, climbing the walls and taking in the views. The island had many small focused little museum exhibits, about its time as a fortress and its time as a prison, but I skipped most of that. (The guys were mostly in there.)

 

 

 

Scenic Cobh

A beautiful day to be outside-Spike Island in Cork Harbor

When we got to Cork for the night, we rode a taxi from our outskirts hotel to downtown, and followed the advice of the taxi driver. First, a brief stop at the English Market, then some gift shopping, then to a local brewery, a different local restaurant/pub, and finally to yet another pub where we finally encountered trad (traditional) music, one of our quests. These were musicians not exactly hired by the pub, not a band, who came in to play. There were four fiddles, a flute/penny whistle, and an Irish piper. The talking and noise of the pub went on around them, but I was fortunate enough to eventually get a seat by them and really listen and observe. There was a young woman who asked questions and got kind direction from the older guys. It was really sweet. 

Busy pub!

 

We had extraordinary luck with the weather - the only rain was our first couple of days in Dublin and down to Wexford. It may have actually rained other days, but not what you would really call rain. Just some extra thick wet air. But we were blessed with a lot of clear skies and beautiful views. And the rain is what makes everything so very very green.

Ruined abbey

Abbey from the inside

Vista along the Ring of Kerry- rough west coast

I took many pictures of the intimate details
This is on a rock wall outside a graveyard

We got many recommendations for restaurants from TripAdvisor, and all of the tours we took asked us to review on TripAdvisor. So it seemed fair play to me, and I did.

Final pub night