tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50257064523105203222024-02-18T17:58:30.481-08:00Life by the NumbersA run-on-sentence-laden, infrequently updated, only tenuously accurate, barely viewed place for me to ramble on about what I like about life, good food (which is pretty much the same thing), places we've been, and things we've done or wanted to do or imagined we've done or I'm willing to lie about having done.--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-54378259071738280212015-04-16T16:31:00.001-07:002015-04-20T12:28:45.224-07:003 Days and 2 Nights, in Monterey<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Mini vacation time. It’s been too long, and we both need some time away from it all. Not TOO far away, from it all, though, so we head down to Monterey for a few days… we had originally planned to head there directly from my birthday BBQ, but had to push the trip out a week because Lucie had to work on my birthday proper, but that’s just fine with me. A trip out of town is still a trip out of town even a week later than anticipated.</span></div>
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The drive down to Monterey is quite a bit longer than usual… we take our preferred route down Highway 101 to Salinas, then over to Highway 1 from there, but traffic is very heavy and slower than you’d expect for a Sunday afternoon. I was expecting all of the traffic to be going North, but apparently I forgot that this is spring break for a lot of places, so other families had the same idea that we did; and it’s a fairly slow slog that takes about an hour longer than normal. We’re not in a rush, though, so we deal with it and eventually make it to our hotel in Marina.<br />
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The Best Western in Marina is an older hotel just off the freeway, with nearby access to Marina State Beach and supposedly right near the Monterey Peninsula Recreational Trail, a bike and pedestrian path that pretty much follows the Pacific Coast Highway and/or Del Monte Avenue from Monterey all the way up into Santa Cruz. Part of our plan for this trip is to run/walk/ride a bunch of the trail and see what it’s like; online comments say it can be pretty hilly in some areas as the trail pretty much follows the coastline and all its topographical variety.<br />
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Once we check into the hotel – small and somewhat run-down room on the first floor, with thin walls and unfortunately located adjacent to the stairway so we can hear everyone tromping up and down the stairs dragging their luggage with them since there’s no elevator – we get dressed for some exercise and head back onto the freeway for a few exits until we get into Seaside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioZGEZ2LXHcPqiY8qg8h_dzfI-EUhIIv0TDZCEXFfhyF7U7ONmH_ETKgOyQm11CmR5a7FobPZ9r8LtCkPQ2rz6QL07OeHf3JFQZjjnepMF1mctRBeDmHW4L802zCw8Veyny01oSx7TCODc/s640/blogger-image--1367981543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioZGEZ2LXHcPqiY8qg8h_dzfI-EUhIIv0TDZCEXFfhyF7U7ONmH_ETKgOyQm11CmR5a7FobPZ9r8LtCkPQ2rz6QL07OeHf3JFQZjjnepMF1mctRBeDmHW4L802zCw8Veyny01oSx7TCODc/s400/blogger-image--1367981543.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNccePsHKchDptShPe83nwjnWWI5WaN-pPV-vI5ONsslSkkv5iSr19ob1hDqq5QLvKY57yQ0VPUyO__Thb12iVDUsfEKFlSnjutiNOn1Ujxcee10_HkYKg0kZciYil2xzVVGVot3JgZP_/s640/blogger-image-423525474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNccePsHKchDptShPe83nwjnWWI5WaN-pPV-vI5ONsslSkkv5iSr19ob1hDqq5QLvKY57yQ0VPUyO__Thb12iVDUsfEKFlSnjutiNOn1Ujxcee10_HkYKg0kZciYil2xzVVGVot3JgZP_/s400/blogger-image-423525474.jpg" width="225" /></a>We find a parking spot next to a small beach, and head onto the trail from there. Lucie wogs, and I ride Crusher… we head south on the trail at first, and it’s pretty much exactly what we’d hoped for at first – the path runs past a beachfront hotel, then right along the sand as it fronts State Beach – but then we run into a Hill. Capital “H” Hill. I struggle on my bike, but thankfully manage to keep pedaling as I make my way up through the clouds and past a couple of satellites before finally reaching the top of the hill… and see that the backside of the hill actually manages to be even <i>longer</i> than the path I took climbing. This is actually not even a joke – the path coming up is a little curvy, but the far side actually has a hairpin turn halfway down so the actual distance is about half again as long, and all incline (or decline, depending I suppose on which way you’re heading.) I coast – braking liberally so as not to break the sound barrier – to the bottom of the Hill, and find that the trail at this point follows Del Monte Avenue, which is flat and not as prone to snowcapped peaks as the beachfront path. Lucie also manages to climb the hill (I believe she had to break out the hammer and pitons, though she maintains she didn’t) and continues to follow the path for a bit before doubling back and hitting the Hill again. I also struggle up this long path, and once again manage to keep pedaling all the way to the top; I encounter two couples coming the other direction, who look to be younger and in better shape than I am, and they’re all pushing their bikes, which does make me feel a little better about myself.<br />
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From there, we head north on the trail for a bit, into Sand City (where we encounter another long hill) before we run out of trail. There’s a sign that indicates you can cross over the freeway and link back up to the Del Monte path, but we decide to call it good enough for the day. In total, Lucie runs about 4 miles and my cyclemeter says I did 7.8 miles, which sounds about right. It also says that I only did 115 feet ascent, which I can only assume is a floating point error and actually means 115 meters, or yards, or possibly football fields.</div>
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We head back to the hotel briefly to lock Crusher in the room, then head to Monterey for dinner. We find a surprisingly good parking spot near Fisherman’s Wharf and take a stroll down the wharf like we do every time we come here. It’s a little bit crowded, which is not entirely unusual for Fisherman's Wharf, but it's also getting toward evening so the crowd isn't as bad as it could be. We wander all the way to the jewelry store, where a tungsten ring jumps onto my finger and refuses to leave so we have to buy it; then head back along the wharf looking for a place to have dinner. We eventually decide on Domenico's, based on the 20-minute wait they have at Old Fisherman's Grotto, our usual choice, versus the immediate seating they offer at Domenico's; and on the fact that we haven't tried them yet and we're feeling a bit adventurous, just having survived jogging/riding over what we have named Morituri Dune just an hour or so earlier.</div>
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The food is pretty good -- Lucie goes for the almond-crusted halibut and I choose the cedar plank salmon piccata, with calamari and crab cakes as appetizers and a mocha espresso cheesecake for dessert -- but it's a bit pricey even for Fisherman's Wharf. The calamari is good, but our favorite calamari is Old Fisherman's Grotto, so we make a plan to stop by there tomorrow if possible. The almond crusted halibut is tasty, but the beurre blanc sauce combined with the extremely buttery mashed potatoes is a bit heavy on the dairy for Lucie's taste; I normally don't really do capers but the lemon piccata sauce on my salmon really does hit the spot. The crab cakes <i>taste</i> good, but we both admit we prefer having discernible pieces of crab instead of the homogenous pinkish texture-free interior they offer. The mocha espresso cheesecake is heavier on the mocha than it is the espresso -- but to be fair, even espresso isn't as strongly flavored like coffee as we'd like -- but its a good way to end the meal.</div>
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From there, we wander back to to Meg, stopping along the way in a candy store to buy salt water taffy for my coworkers and caramel apples for us (peanut for Lucie, English toffee for me), then we head back up to the hotel for the night.</div>
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We sleep in the next day a bit, not feeling the need to hit the highway too early on our vacation, but eventually get dressed and head to Cannery Row in Monterey. Again, however, I have forgotten to think about it being spring break when we planned the day, so Monterey isn’t nearly as deserted as we’d hoped, and we struggle to find decent parking before finally settling on a spot on the far end of Cannery Row that I believe is as far away as possible from Monterey Bay Aquarium without being in Oregon. We walk along the storefronts of Ocean Street, trying to find a spot to have breakfast that isn’t too ridiculously crowded. We had originally thought about trying LouLou’s Café at the industrial pier next to Fisherman’s Wharf, but they’d already stopped serving breakfast by the time we left the hotel, so we keep our options open as we walk. Before we know it, however, we’re already at the entrance to Monterey Bay Aquarium on the far end of Cannery Row. We briefly think about just doing the aquarium, but the line is just crazy long (remember, spring break? We didn’t!) so we head a bit further along the road and try out First Awakenings at the American Tin Cannery mall.</div>
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First Awakenings is located on the side of the mall closest to the aquarium, and has indoor as well as outdoor seating, is dog-friendly, and – in a bold health-conscious (or possibly granola-sucking tree-hugging flower-powery kind of) choice for a diner, they don’t have a deep fryer. Lucie decides on a stack of 2 “Monkey Wrench” pancakes, which are chock full of banana, chocolate chips, and walnut pieces (some of which are <I>surprisingly</I> large, as Lucie finds a complete walnut half at one point), and I have the “Acapulco Express” omelet with chorizo, onions, avocado, and green chiles with the optional jalapeños added in; country potatoes cooked well done, and an English muffin. We also – because have for some reason decided to try out calamari at every place we visit this trip – try out the calamari steak. Squid for breakfast is a thing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yTO6sbXt0cQptbI6Epfv3zAckYHMghuMKPkCUoc0WmQYCod4DpFqe_05lrIZLYgrwdUsFRZHF4cUrBOoF9qU_JoZILMyPBaub3T-3y_4mgIRV9sALLiEB5Y0-B6p_fgCnv59-VMJ5WDc/s640/blogger-image-1817233790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yTO6sbXt0cQptbI6Epfv3zAckYHMghuMKPkCUoc0WmQYCod4DpFqe_05lrIZLYgrwdUsFRZHF4cUrBOoF9qU_JoZILMyPBaub3T-3y_4mgIRV9sALLiEB5Y0-B6p_fgCnv59-VMJ5WDc/s400/blogger-image-1817233790.jpg" width="300" /></a>The pancakes are HUGE. Very tasty, but massive -- Lucie ends up not finishing them (not because of the actual size -- she maintains that she could have powered through, and I believe her -- but because she's not certain how much buttermilk they have and doesn't want to take the risk.) The omelet is nicely spicy, savory, and bright, with a good creaminess from the avocado; the country potatoes -- cooked well done per my order -- give a good contrast in texture; and the english muffin tastes <i>exactly</i> like an English muffin -- I don't know how they managed <i>that</i> bit of gastronomic alchemy, but well played. The calamari steak is breaded and cooked on the flatiron grill -- it manages to be crunchy without being oily, and gives a good mouth feel that you don't get with deep fried rings and tentacles.</div>
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We digest for a bit, then walk through the mostly empty mall to work off some of the calories. We'd been here a year or so ago with my mom and sister, and I don't think there are any new stores that have moved in since then -- it's even more sparsely populated with stores than Vallco Fashion Mall was in the early 2000s, which has got to be tough on the stores that are toughing it out. The candy store is still there, though, so we stop by and I spend far too much money on more salt water taffy... it's a great thing to be able to pick and choose which flavors of taffy you want to buy, but it's kind of a shock at the register when you find out that your basket of pay-by-the-ounce dentist bait weighs three times what you think it does.</div>
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After the mall, we cross the street and walk along the Monterey Recreational Trail toward Lover's Point for about half a mile or so, enjoying the ocean view and stopping for a bit at Stanford's Hopkins Marine Research Station to watch the large group of harbor seals that are sunning themselves on the beach below us before heading back along the trail toward the aquarium. We had originally thought about riding our bikes along the trail through here, but Lucie's eye is giving her a little bit of trouble and it's pretty crowded to have a nice relaxing ride, so we compromise and instead stop at Bay Bikes and rent a surrey to get our pedaling exercise for the day.</div>
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And, not for the first time, we both find ourselves wondering: "when did we become <i>those</i> people, who exercise on vacation?! When did that actually become something we would do on purpose?"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUqSRWY0l_4TodSF2dngY1iszGEwnvbiOr8RfVfQP2aWshaPFHpkMkR_8VsBNNER53N60099LJ28HhMA35SN1H5aq5e7p6ZhYt7G7Fderx_mhL2lbnx5KUr_kaLC0W4wyRcQEW5uLpfc9/s640/blogger-image-1816813272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUqSRWY0l_4TodSF2dngY1iszGEwnvbiOr8RfVfQP2aWshaPFHpkMkR_8VsBNNER53N60099LJ28HhMA35SN1H5aq5e7p6ZhYt7G7Fderx_mhL2lbnx5KUr_kaLC0W4wyRcQEW5uLpfc9/s400/blogger-image-1816813272.jpg" width="400" /></a>We rent the smaller of the two surrey sizes available -- no need for a rear seat since we don't plan on starting up a quickie pedicab service -- and Lucie makes sure to specify that we would, in fact, very much like to rent that one specific surrey she sees with a fringes canopy so we can have the surrey with the fringe on the top just like in that <I>Oklahoma!</I> song she's never heard from that movie/musical that she's never seen. She has no real desire to see it either, even when informed that there's a stage production that aired on TV with Hugh Jackman playing Curley and one can't say one has really fully lived a fulfilled life until one sees Wolverine singing about his surrey with the fringe on top. But hey, to each ones own, I suppose.</div>
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We ride in the surrey back along the Recreational Trail down south all the way to Lover's Point, slowing down an LOT as we cross the various streets along Cannery Row (in no small part due to the fact that the surrey is 4 feet wide and the posts that they have at all street crossings are exactly 5 feet apart, and there's no foot protection if one were to slam into said posts) and slightly regretting that the surrey doesn't have gears as we climb the gentle inclines of the path and slightly less gentle access ramps at street intersections. At Lover's Point we rest for a bit -- it really is a good amount of cardio pedaling that much -- before turning around and riding the trail all the way to Fisherman's Wharf and back to the bike shop.</div>
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All in all, we travel about 4 miles or so in about an hour of pedaling. Not the fastest method of wheeled transportation, but I'll definitely say this: it was by far one of the most entertaining things we've done lately. There's absolutely no denying that we look pretty silly riding this thing, pedaling furiously like we're in a caffeinated spin class while moving only slightly faster than a slow jog; we get a LOT of folks giving us huge smiles and some laughter, but not as much laughter as we're doing while pedaling. As long as you embrace the silliness, there is an awful lot of fun to be had doing something ridiculous. I take a lot of pictures, try (and if I must admit, fail) to look like a badass thug wearing pink tie dye pedaling a surrey and moving my legs so fast hamsters in their little hamster wheels would get queasy, and we both have a total blast.</div>
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We return the surrey, I pick up a Bay Bikes shirt to help support the business that gave us such a great experience, and we head back to the hotel to recuperate for a bit before heading out to dinner. We use our good friend Yelp to find a place that has high reviews on fish & chips, and settle on a place called Googie Grill in Seaside. It's named after the architectural style of the 50s and 60s that is so recognizable in places like Disney's Tomorrowland and the Brendan Fraser vehicle <i>Blast From the Past</i>, and the food is amazing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrij_o6ZjoEyQp3auhszANokeGPNIeA8BtJ8h1jzaphfRbLY8mINmzK5_C9XmAvG8NpBErBOs3T8D0B5VyseN9pRAVAAe0T7x7LrEpRvNOy0-oVzGuS9XpmHnN3TMzfZcykVR4gJeD7xe/s640/blogger-image-2105176949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrij_o6ZjoEyQp3auhszANokeGPNIeA8BtJ8h1jzaphfRbLY8mINmzK5_C9XmAvG8NpBErBOs3T8D0B5VyseN9pRAVAAe0T7x7LrEpRvNOy0-oVzGuS9XpmHnN3TMzfZcykVR4gJeD7xe/s320/blogger-image-2105176949.jpg" width="320" /></a>We start with (what else?) the calamari appetizer, and discover a fried calamari in the Monterey area that is <i>better</i> than Old Fisherma's Grotto, our heretofore standard in crispy squid bits. It's got a very light, almost tempura-like batter but crispier, and comes with homemade cocktail and tartar sauces; there's a good hint of horseradish in the cocktail sauce that is just outstanding, and the tartar sauce is creamy and briny without being too sweet or acidic, a very difficult target to hit but they do it well. I order the sand dabs -- this is my first time trying this type of fish so I don't have any previous sand dab meals to which I can compare them, but they're very light and not fishy at all, almost letting the mild lemon caper sauce dictate the overall flavor (like Domenico's the previous day, I'm for some reason in a caper mood.) It comes with lightly steamed veggies and a Spanish rice that has a deep, smoky flavor. Lucie has the fish & chips, and these are also well above what one would expect from a tiny diner: fresh, flaky halibut cooked to perfection with a beer batter coating, and "sidewinder fries", thick spiral cuts of potato with a seasoned coating, crisp and tasty on the outside and perfectly creamy consistency in the center like a good steak fry; and combined with their house made tartar sauce it's a match made in fatty heaven. Dessert is a slight letdown, with their (approximately) eight-pound slice of carrot cake having some outer edges that are overcooked to the point of being unpleasantly tough and bitter; but the interior of the cake is moist and densely sweet like any good carrot cake should be, heavy on the cinnamon and raisins. Lucie's slice of apple pie -- no, beignets -- no, apple pie -- is thick and sweet and also delicious, thought maybe not worth the price tag (but this <i>is</i> Monterey-adjacent, however, so it's not entirely unexpected.)</div>
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After dinner, and our mutual agreement that we'll definitely have to come back here on our next trip to Monterey for more calamari and fish & chips, we head back to our hotel room for the night. A quick stop on the way there to pick up some epsom salts, though, because we both think a soak in the bathtub with epsom salts would be a good thing for our muscles after the last two days of leg exercise.</div>
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We wake up on our third day on the coast, and check out of our hotel. Best Western in Marina is not the most comfortable hotel, doesn't have very many amenities (we paid extra to have a room with a mini fridge and there's no microwave, for example), the shower ceiling leaks water from the shower upstairs (at least, we really <I>really</I> hope it's just from the shower), the walls are thin and not at all soundproof, and while it's fairly close to the beach there's no view to speak of; but it has served us well enough this trip.</div>
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We drive down the Pacific Coast Highway a few miles and exit at Sand City, take a few turns on city streets and drive through the closed Fort Ord military base grounds, past an awful lot of abandoned and now-dilapidated military barracks and other buildings that look for all the world like a huge set for <I>The Walking Dead</I> just waiting to happen. I'm actually happy that it's late morning, since I'd be incredibly freaked out if we were to be driving through here anywhere near nighttime. After a few minutes of driving through Fort Zombieton, however, we arrive at a small, mostly deserted, parking lot at Fort Ord Dunes State Park, part of Fort Ord National Monument. After Fort Ord closed down in 1994, the land went mostly unused until a large coastal section was changed into Fort Ord Dunes State Park (after extensive cleanup efforts, which included a LOT of munitions clearing out 15 firing ranges and 12 ammunition bunkers) and later became part of the Fort Ord National Monument by President Obama in 2012.</div>
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Fort Ord Dunes State Park (which is a rather long and cumbersome name to repeat as often as I am; ditto with Monterey Peninsula Recreational Trail) has 83 miles of recreational trails, which includes bicycle, hiking, and equestrian trails winding throughout the parcel of land, which also contains over a hundred abandoned buildings and a closed sewage plant in addition to the aforementioned bunkers and firing ranges (all closed, cleaned, walled off, and safe except for the zombies lurking inside.) The bicycle trails are very wide and enjoyable -- I believe they just converted the two-lane roads into three-lane paths, with two directional bike lanes and a pedestrian lane. This makes for a great cycling experience with nice views and no vehicular traffic and the occasional oceanic view (rare in our case, though we only rode part of the paths there -- I don't doubt that there are amazing views of the Pacific Ocean in other areas of the park), and there are Hills. Capital "H" Hills, though not necessarily Morituri Dune level Hills, there are a lot of long inclines that make for some impressive quad muscle workouts.</div>
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After a relatively short ride -- in part because my legs are already burning from the last couple of days and I want to have some energy remaining this evening because we're headed to the gym for our personal training sessions, partly because I remember how long it took to drive down to Monterey and I want to make sure we get home in time so I slightly overcompensate -- we load our bikes back onto Meg and head back into Monterey one more time for lunch. I'm a little leery of having the bikes out in the open on the bike rack, but they're locked down pretty securely (I really like our Thule bike rack, even if is <I>does</I> weigh a ton) so I toss the easily removed items like seat bags and headlights into the trunk and call it good enough once we find a very visible parking spot with a lot of foot traffic.</div>
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From there, we head to Old Fisherman's Grotto to give their calamari another taste test. We do the sampler appetizer platter -- two grilled shrimp, a crab cake, and calamari to start, Lucie goes for the full-on calamari lunch plate, and I choose the calamari eggplant parmesan, as well as a cup of clam chowder since both Lucie and I realize that this is our third day in Monterey and I have yet to have any clam chowder, which is just weird.</div>
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The grilled shrimp are possibly just slightly overcooked, but have a great smoky char from the wood fired grill regardless; the crab cake has a better consistency than Domenico's and a better crunch on the outside but is still somewhat more homogenous in texture than we'd prefer, but tastes just fine; and the calamari is just as good as we remember. This sadly means that it's just a tiny bit less impressive than Googie Grill's calamari, but it's still some seriously spiffy cephalopod. Lucie's calamari plate is more of the same -- she's <I>really</I> in the mood for calamari -- and she willingly shares the tentacle bits with me since they're a tad graphic for her tastes and I'm a sucker for them (you see what I did there? I know you do.) My calamari eggplant parm is breaded and fried eggplant on top of a calamari steak -- tartly acidic from the tomato sauce, molten and creamy from the melted cheese, and the accompanying pesto penne adds a nice dry herbal note. I sadly don't see the pesto parmesan salmon that I totally love, but maybe that's on the dinner menu and this is lunchtime (though a later online search informs me that sadly it's not on the dinner menu either -- it's no longer offered. That's really too bad, as that was my favorite fish dining experience in recent memory.)</div>
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Dessert is a large wedge of olallieberry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and dollop of whipped cream, turned into a work of art with raspberry and apricot sauces on a ceramic canvas. The pie is tart and sweet, which is exactly what you want from any olallieberry dish, and it's a nice ending for a great lunch. We dwell for a few minutes at our booth overlooking the bay and watch pelicans and a couple of seals having their own seafood lunches below us, then pick up a few cans of their clam chowder for my mom and Lucie's dad as we head out of the restaurant and back to Meg. Our bikes are untouched and I was probably overcautious, but better paranoid than sorry.</div>
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The drive back to San Jose is uneventful and at or above the speed limit the entire way, so we get home with a couple of hours to unpack and relax before heading to the gym -- even on our mini vacation, we want to meet up with our personal trainers and get our exercise in.</div>
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Okay, when did we become <I>those</I> people, who exercise on vacation?! When did that actually become something we would do on purpose?</div>
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--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-91166066286641547742014-09-26T21:33:00.001-07:002014-09-26T22:52:29.007-07:00Sixty Minutes of Pain and Sweat, in Santa Clara<div class="WordSection1" style="page: WordSection1;"><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So as part of our regimes to become healthier and lose weight and live longer and more active lives and blah blah blah we miss pizza, we recently joined a gym so we could work out after work and start back up with personal trainer sessions. Our last person kind of wandered away and abandoned us (for a better and more fulfilling job with more pay, so we don't begrudge her all for it; just kind of the way she went about it in a rather unprofessional way) and we realized that we needed to continue in our efforts if we also wanted to continue enjoying the resulting… uh.. results, so after a bit of research we decided on 24-Hour Fitness.</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">One of the major selling points was its central location, about halfway between Lucie’s job and mine, so we could save some time after work instead of driving home, changing, then heading out to exercise. Having both of our jobs offer a respectable discount helped too, to be sure.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">One major difference between our new gym and our old location (which wasn’t technically a gym, per se; it was an old Easter Seals physical therapy building taken over by the San Jose State University kinesiology department – but it did have a small weight room and offered personal training which is all we needed at the time) is that our new gym is just so incredibly “gym-y”. Gone is the smell of chorine (from the heated pool at Timpany Center, used for swim lessons and aquatic therapy), replaced with the smell of old sweat and – occasionally – severe body odor. Gone is the quiet solitude of a weight room used only by us (sometimes with a background noise of youth basketball on the other side of the wall); replaced with grunts, clangs of the metal plates from weight machines, upbeat music from Zumba and cardio kickboxing classes, and the overbearing screams of trauma from my muscles being torn asunder.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And that’s the other, much more glaring, difference between our old workouts and our new ones: 24-Hour Fitness personal trainers are SO much more badass. Not really knowing what personal training was when we first started, I never realized that our trainer wasn’t really increasing the intensity of our workouts as we got healthier and stronger like she probably should have; she kept us at a plateau and we were okay with that since we didn’t know any better. Added to that, we spent a relatively large amount of our time talking between sets, and once Lucie started to work out with me we basically just shared the same trainer, so didn’t really get the full impact of personal training as it’s meant to be.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Once we started personal training at 24-Hour Fitness, we decided to go with individual (one might even say PERSONAL) personal trainers, so we could focus on our individual needs – Lucie wanted to work on stamina and other efforts geared toward her running efforts; I opted to go with upper body and cardio so I can more easily move myself around once I need to get my knees replaced… it’s definitely going to happen, and I need to be ready for it when it does. I’d been having a lot of muscle issues with my left knee, where it felt like my kneecap was being pulled out to the left when I tried to take stairs or even when I was just walking and bent my knee without being careful, and that really sucked. Knee pain sucks. It sucks a LOT.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My person trainer Rob is of mostly Japanese heritage, was born and raised in Hawai’i (O’ahu), is a foodie, and is a multiple black belt MMA fighter. His official title is “Master Trainer”, in that he takes on the more challenging clientele and also trains the other personal trainers. Like I said, badass. And he works me HARD… this guy pushes me so much farther than I would push myself; partly because I’m a little lazy but mostly because I typically drastically underestimate just what I’m able to do. And far from shirking from the effort and pain, I kind of dig it. It’s a great feeling knowing that I’m doing stuff I never thought I’d be doing, because I never considered myself capable. Dead lifting? Yeah – over 300 pounds. Never thought I’d be that guy doing weight lifting, but I find I’m enjoying it. I don’t go over to that section when we go to the gym on non-training days, though – it’s still very much a club of regulars and I don’t feel comfortable in ANY kind of social situation like that; but that’s more just my overall general awkwardness than inability to push myself. I still use the machines and use the dumbbells (floor-to-press, 45 pounds, 5 times each arm, repeat 5 times, GO GO GO WORK IT) and ride the stationary bike (though obviously I prefer riding my actual bicycle much more; but at least at the gym I can measure my heart rate and I don’t have to worry about steering) and other stuff, at least.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And I’m actually showing progress, too… I’ve had more than one person at the gym come up to me and tell me they see progress since we’ve started going there. Maybe it’s a sort of “let’s make the sad fat guy feel better about all that sweating he’s doing” kind of thing, but I’d like to think it’s more than that. I do feel stronger. I can feel how much stronger I’ve gotten in the 5-6 months we’ve been doing this. If I kind of cross my eyes a little, I can look in the mirror and even see that I’m starting to develop some sort of shape in my upper body that doesn’t include the word “amorphous”.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Rob and I joke around about how much I hate him for pushing me so hard, but every once in a while in a rare moment of sincerity, he says he really appreciates how much Lucie and I are both willing to push ourselves, compared to some of the other clients who expect miracles without effort on their part; and I tell him how much I appreciate him knowing how far I can go better than I do, and for getting me where I want to be… and for her part Lucie also brought up something I hadn’t even thought of before, which startled me a bit…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My first two trips to Hawai’i, we joked about how Hawai’i was trying to kill me – first trip was a falling coconut, second trip was almost driving off a cliff on an ATV – but that on our subsequent trips to the islands Hawai’i has been fairly nonthreatening. But maybe, just maybe, Lucie suggests, Hawai’i has sent someone to the Mainland to kill me here in California, in a particularly devious and proactive move.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Dang. That’s pretty smart, Hawai’i… but it won’t work. I’ll persevere, despite your islander assassin and your fake nene propaganda and your very long off season of Hawaii Five-0. And I’ll be back, next year. Do your worst.*<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">.</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">*Don’t actually do your worst. Easy, brah.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">.</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div>--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-74398058403221942042014-07-07T10:07:00.001-07:002014-08-20T23:14:02.251-07:00Seven Point Four, From Trek<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Back in May, we took part in the California Classic bike ride, which was both fun and exhausting. At the time, Lucie and I spoke about tweaking our cycling equipment to make such long rides easier, since we're looking at similar or longer rides in our future. Some of the easiest ways to do this are to buy a new, lighter, bicycle; to massively swap out bike components for lighter ones on the current bike; or to add upgrades to e current bike to make cycling more efficient.</span></div><div><br />
</div><div>And we've both made tweaks, some more expensive than others, to accomplish this goal. For her part, Lucie bought cycling shoes and swapped out her standard pedals for clips, so she has a much more secure grip while pedaling and can get more oomph by lifting as well as pushing. In a possibly less efficiency-based adjustment, she's also changing as many bits and pieces as possible on her bike from the stock black to pink.. I believe this is purely aesthetic on her part, although it's possible that lighter colors also make the bike lighter; I didn't attend enough college to know for sure.</div><div><br />
</div><div>My tweak is substantially more expensive -- a new Trek road bike. It's not actually my idea, though; my wonderful wife gets it for me as an advance anniversary gift. I do try and resist at first, but 1) she's very persuasive, 2) I have a hard time saying no to her even when she's not trying to talk me into something, 3) once it's presented as being my anniversary present there's really no way I can say no, and 4) it's a really cool bike and I really want it even though I don't want to spend that kind of money on myself so having her buy it for me is a nice justification. Probably mostly that last one, if I had to be honest.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The new bike is a Trek FX 7.4, way incredibly light (compared to my Trek Shift 4 comfort bike at any rate; still a brick compared to some of the high-end bikes out there [though this is probably one of the lightest bikes that can still handle my weight! as most pure carbon frames aren't built for that high a max payload]) and thin (29-inch Presta tires instead of 26-inch Schraeder, so the tires are maybe an inch wide at most) and awesome looking with a matte black body color with blue striping.</div><div><br />
</div><div>During my test ride around the building when we're still "considering and debating" whether we're buying it or not, I get a much faster high speed than with my comfort bike, although the new positioning takes a lot of getting used to since I'm used to basically sitting upright on the comfort bike and with the road bike I'm leaning forward and it sure feels like I'm going to go flying over the handlebars when I brake. This feeling is somewhat intensified by the fact that the brakes on the road bike are much more responsive than on the comfort bike; feels funky at first but it's not anything to which I'd be unable to adapt so no worries.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The only thing about the bike about which I'm not entirely happy is the seat -- it's a streamlined seat to go along with the overall look of the bike, which is fine; it's just that my butt is larger than average and the seat is narrower than average... which isn't something that is very comfortable after more than ten minutes or so of riding. Luckily, I have the original seat from my first bike which -- while not as wide as the one which replaced it -- is a few inches wider and thicker than what comes stock on the road bike, and it's a simple switch to a more comfortable ride. This, combined with the padded bike bib I buy online, is good enough to where I'm able to ride for an extended amount of time without massive discomfort.</div><div><br />
</div><div>My first bike was also a Trek. Its name -- an obvious choice -- is Kirk. My next Trek, what would normally have been named -- also an obvious choice -- Picard, has, because of the firm and narrow seat with which it arrived, instead been named Crusher.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Because, DAMN.</div><div><br />
</div><div>.</div><div><br />
</div>--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-42259689982534623462014-05-23T13:19:00.001-07:002014-07-02T14:32:15.932-07:0035 Miles, on 2 Wheels, in Fresno<div>So I've mentioned before -- several times, and probably more than is necessary -- that my knees are bad. Bad, BAD knees. No dessert for you. I can't walk/jog like my wife can, and it can even be a challenge to walk a 5K without limping for a day or two afterwards; but without the impact of walking I'm not too bad off. For instance, I can ride a bike pretty well -- my butt might not appreciate the bicycle seat very much, but my knees appreciate the exercise.</div><div><br />
</div><div>That last rambling paragraph leads me to this: we were just in Fresno to attend and celebrate my niece's graduation from Fresno State University, where she got her Master's degree (congrats again to her!) As it happens, that same weekend is the bicycle portion of the California Classic event, which is a companion event for the California Classic half marathon / 5K that took place and in which we participated back in March. Because we got the finisher's medallion from the walk portion, we decide to get the matching interlocking cycling medallion as well. The pedestrian events consisted of a half marathon or a 5K fun run; the bicycle event has the options of a 100-mile "century" ride, a 60-mile "metric" ride, or the 35-mile "mini-metric" ride. Seeing as how the longest we've ridden so far has been a little over 21 miles, we opt for the mini metric.</div><div><br />
</div><div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOgCgrnGPms0_QuIgjraaZN_ChwtIe4hDDdiYg57avADyWkoNjHSfD9srZ2xx23RPY-EPKw3O0I8m5vewxENjNOIDnfE66avhsr1XK4wJdC8v7kt6kY8ctnL1uQd_GunY4pwQwv0EaGQf/s1600/blogger-image--2144691117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOgCgrnGPms0_QuIgjraaZN_ChwtIe4hDDdiYg57avADyWkoNjHSfD9srZ2xx23RPY-EPKw3O0I8m5vewxENjNOIDnfE66avhsr1XK4wJdC8v7kt6kY8ctnL1uQd_GunY4pwQwv0EaGQf/s320/blogger-image--2144691117.jpg" width="320"></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Because it's Fresno, in May, the ride starts at a very early hour to avoid the Valley heat; so we arrive early enough to get a really good parking spot (a combination of lucky timing and my sister-in-law's keen observation and quick thinking, we get the first two spots right at an intersection, making our exit strategy after the ride simple and easy) and head over to the starting point, where a large number of cyclists has already gathered. We take a few obligatory group shots (try as I might to be the guy <i>taking</i> the pictures, I still end having to pose for a few myself) and a few minutes after 7 the ride begins.</div></div><br />
<div><span style="clear: right; color: black; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></span></div><div>The first few miles are along closed streets downtown, winding past office buildings and through residential neighborhoods, past police officers directing traffic as we gradually ride along larger and busier streets, until after about 5 miles we hit the highlight of this particular ride, where for a ten-mile stretch we ride north along a section of southbound California State Route 168 which has been closed for the occasion. According to the California Classic web site, it's the only ride in California where Caltrans shuts down part of a freeway for a bicycle ride... and it is a glorious thing. Instead of a three- or four-foot strip along the shoulder of a street where cars are whipping past your left elbow at far-too-quick speeds for my liking, we have a full four lanes of smooth road, hundreds of cyclists enjoying the still-cool morning air and clear sky, peace and quiet of no vehicle engines nearby, encouraging cheering from the spectators along the freeway overpasses above us; all of which add up to what almost seems like a wonderful post-apocalyptic outing, without any nuclear winter or zombie attacks (the absence of which is also nice.) I use the wide lanes and abundance of space to entertain myself by taking some video from my newly purchased mini camcorder which I've installed on the side of my bike helmet, and by taking a few shots with my iPhone, both of the other riders on the freeway and a few selfies with family members in the background. I'm a geek; this is what I do.</div><div><span style="clear: left; color: black; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeWTSLdO2oLN8Go8MTiOWrDyisCtgKbW24hHPWRxUKZXmXw8xdFC95s2rYUnR67kFAoxaoWChwe1XtM-g90m_NpWxnK3rbffp7a21naL-2mXmmbxDqcG0BKO1SAIJOM35tATG4C1tOzjR/s320/blogger-image-219082848.jpg" width="320"></span></div><div>One thing I definitely notice during this stretch is that the gentle rolling hills of the freeway -- which we had driven down just over an hour ago in our car getting to the starting point -- seems much more daunting riding a bike than when in a motor vehicle. Sure, the first long hill isn't too bad, but the second one comes much too quickly before I have a chance to recover; and while I do get a good amount of speed coasting downhill after the climb I immediately have to climb a third hill, and then a fourth... the underpasses we encounter along the Guadalupe River trail in San Jose are quite a bit steeper than these, but they're only a few hundred feet long instead of a quarter or half mile, and my leg muscles let me know they don't really appreciate the longer distance climbs. We're all able to manage the hills, though, which is good -- I'm glad they came at the beginning of the ride instead of near the end -- and after a total of about 15 miles we exit the highway and take a quick break at the first rest stop.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We parks our bikes, grab some of the snacks they offer (licorice, fruit, and other simple sugars and carbs for energy), I take a minute or two more to get my knee working properly again (the vastus medialis muscle, or the quadriceps femoris muscle, or the kneecapsicum hurtialis, or whatever the name of the thing is that hurts so dang much when I bend my knee sometimes) and we're off and riding again, this time along the side of country roads around the outskirts of Clovis. There aren't any legitimate bike lanes along the roads here, but the shoulders are wide and there isn't much traffic, and after the mostly uphill first leg of this ride -- a net rise of 150 feet or so in the fifteen miles of freeway, but quite a bit more than that taking the rolling hills into account -- this portion of the route is mostly flat, so my legs appreciate the easier work. As we get closer to our second rest stop, however, I do start getting some complaints from a different body part -- while I do have a bicycle seat that is wider and more cushioned than most, my <i>butt</i> is also wider than most butts (no comment on the cushioning comparison), so I'm getting a little tenderness in my nethers the further we ride.</div><div><br />
</div>I take the second rest stop as an opportunity to refill my water bottles (it's getting warmer and they have both water and ice here, which is a very welcome thing) and stretch my legs for a bit before the final portion of the ride. As we ride through the streets through the southeastern portion of Fresno toward the finish line, the traffic gets heavier, the shoulders narrower, the day hotter, and my butt grumpier; but we persevere. After a few miles of riding through the downtown area (they do have bike lanes here, but also a lot more traffic; and by now all three bike routes have reconnected so there are a lot more cyclists than during our last portion) we begin our approach to the finish line. I get a little concerned as we notice a huge column of thick smoke emanating from where we estimate the finish line to be, but as we find out later it's a three-alarm fire at an abandoned Del Monte packinghouse a block past the finish line, which thankfully doesn't affect the bike ride and -- more importantly -- isn't anywhere close to where our cars are parked. I get a few video clips and iPhone photos of the smoke from various distances as we ride the last mile or two of the route, because it's newsworthy and just in case we need them for insurance purposes.<br />
<br />
<div><span style="clear: right; color: black; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUf6a0VwPyxwFOJ_6NkFXsEeSOjS6AC6xqFSCx0MmKQ0Hyl32J4P7uDyXq3o4AQnzrlqErbpGEcn6jvvL-zIr65lXxudd7Jo3hcy4uPa5krMgxMVRqD4Wh__B56oHaMdXeSK3vE9izwgx/s320/blogger-image--1589297442.jpg" width="320"></span></div>We cross the finish line triumphantly to the cheers of volunteers and spectators and maybe a hobo or two, make a U-turn before we ride into the fire trucks, and head toward the valet bike parking area where we also receive our race medallions. We walk (a bit stiffly, at least in my case) into Chukchansi Stadium and partake of the free light lunch they offer to riders, and I also have a cup of free ice cream that they're serving from the Cold Stone Creamery cart (their coffee ice cream is one of the better coffee ice creams out there) to help cool off a bit, as it's almost noon and it's getting pretty darn hot out. The free lunch consists of decent but dry rice pilaf, very well-done (almost rubbery) tri-tip, salad, a roll, and crunchy green beans. It's protein and carbs; maybe not fantastic fare but needed after riding for three hours -- my Cyclemeter app says I burned 3400 calories during the ride; that seems a bit high to me but I do need to hydrate and make up for some of what was burned. We'll make it up with a much better lunch later in the day.<br />
<br />
<div><span style="clear: right; color: black; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsMvhGbnjeJZ0gUQqtJ211XWHK5aFb6jykKmK_XPDLC9QxJoqBNYVPXo9eWcVZbFEPcftq23Dm1kn7xv9fvnOdFoCQJgElBmuj-IhgL6-sMQ-utdKQLOzi2uJB3X0zvIw5lPwYQXwBvYi/s320/blogger-image--87897084.jpg" width="320"></span></div><div>The finisher's medallion is a Fresno cityscape, with a tiger head on the bottom (it's sponsored in part by Chaffee Zoo, and the tiger is their mascot critter) and some cyclists in the lower left portion; the half marathon medallion is the same cityscape and tiger, but with runners in the bottom right. The medallions fit together in such a way that both event names are visible, along with the runners and cyclists... it entertains me greatly. The 5K was the first walk/run event this year for us, and today's bike event was the longest ride we've done to date; it's a whimsical little thing to have interlocking medallions, and both events are something to be at least a little proud of, so I am happy about having gotten them.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Even <i>if</i> my butt's a little whiny about it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>.</div><div><br />
</div>--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-84665281451512821032014-01-23T13:10:00.001-08:002014-02-27T23:41:39.090-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 11: Aloha Nui Loa, Hawai'i<div>
It's always a bummer leaving Hawai'i and coming back home. Today is no exception.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipmwcK-GquI2LX9gqLogIspTVm7BPWVsYMnZerIzZpkfuAVVTOHAJS6YWJz44UgsUhBmvlSzravTbEEbCZjxyn1BwCjwcqFAgyv4LCOT9PB62erkuImKEsqALurlC2sobq2j1vLbRCT3Oy/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_548630="null" cua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipmwcK-GquI2LX9gqLogIspTVm7BPWVsYMnZerIzZpkfuAVVTOHAJS6YWJz44UgsUhBmvlSzravTbEEbCZjxyn1BwCjwcqFAgyv4LCOT9PB62erkuImKEsqALurlC2sobq2j1vLbRCT3Oy/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="320" width="240"></a>We wake up, take a few last pictures of ourselves on the lanai with the ocean in the background (and I will never get tired of that view -- my wife or the ocean -- let me tell you), and pack our luggage. It's grown from two suitcases to four in the week and a half since we've been on the Islands (taking an idea from my mom, we've been nesting our clothing suitcase inside of a larger suitcase on the way over, matryoshka style, and filling the larger one with souvenirs [coffee] and stuff [coffee] that we buy [roast] while we're here [drinking coffee]), so we call down and have a nice brudda help us wit da bags.</div>
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We pay the bill -- as always, made substantially larger by hotel-related taxes and fees as well as our bar tab -- and overstuff our poor convertible for the drive to the airport. We manage to fit the two smaller suitcases in the dinky little trunk, but the larger suitcases have to be put into the rear seat of the car. Convertibles aren't known for their luggage hauling capacity, and every trip here reminds us of this. Fitting for our moods, it's gray and cloudy today, and we need to stop a few miles out of Kailua-Kona to put the top up when it begins to rain.</div>
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I drop Lucie and our luggage off at the airport (the cloth interior of the car gets a bit damp because I have to lower the ragtop to get the suitcases out of the back seat) and I hitch a ride with the shuttle once I drop the car off at the rental agency (the attendant who signs the car in sees all of the rain spots in the car and on the cloth seats, just grins, and says nothing about potential water damage -- obviously not an uncommon occurrence here, I'm guessing.) By the time I get back, our luggage has been checked by the porters (love those guys!) and Lucie has our boarding passes in hand, and it's a relatively easy walk into the gates through the metal detectors and TSA agents with their grabby and judgmental hands.</div>
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Because we're hoity-toity Important First Class Passengers, we're able to access Hawaiian Airlines' "Premiere Lounge" while we're waiting for the connecting flight to Maui... and believe me, until you get to experience the Kona Airport's Premiere Lounge, with its fountain drink dispenser and free WiFi, not to mention high-speed PC hookup (note the lack of plural there), you haven't lived a full life. Okay, so it's not the Ritz or anything, but there are comfortable seats, and it's an air-conditioned room, and we <i>do</i> appreciate the WiFi, so it really is a nice touch. We sit at a table and pull out our iPads for the twenty minutes or so before our plane is set to arrive, and then make our way out to the gate.</div>
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It's a short jump over to Maui -- we wave at the sugar cane fields as we land -- but the ten minute wait for the flight to the Mainland turns into almost 45 minutes as the plane we're scheduled to board isn't yet at the assigned space. There's no early boarding because of this, and no "delayed" notice on the info board, but while we're not thrilled about how crowded the waiting room becomes during this time we're certainly not going to complain about getting to stay in Hawai'i for a little while longer.</div>
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The flight back (once the place finally arrives) seems to take much longer than usual, due to the turbulence that we hit on the way. The flight attendants are instructed to take their seats on two different occasions, the drink carts are delayed a few times for safety reasons, and it's a bit of a challenge to watch the movie selections on the entertainment tablets (iPad minis with Hawaiian Airlines branding and operating software) they loan us First Class passengers -- although if you time the turbulence jostling just right, it totally cancels out the camera shaking in <i>Star Trek: Into Darknes</i>s so it looks like Kirk and Spock are just drunk. Hard to follow some of the archery shots in <i>Brave</i>, though.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYtGYMXPnem4vsgHeSilxkPi1QWUvMimR6Ljj4bVT8ecXaGWNntbDUaPHv9wES0Fdat8HII69KqeYv_Bc3QfFVSIaeyH1UO_iS9MWDL_rPf_HsWDRJkpmTnfoRydcsGInE-RSrIByLncc/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_548630="null" cua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYtGYMXPnem4vsgHeSilxkPi1QWUvMimR6Ljj4bVT8ecXaGWNntbDUaPHv9wES0Fdat8HII69KqeYv_Bc3QfFVSIaeyH1UO_iS9MWDL_rPf_HsWDRJkpmTnfoRydcsGInE-RSrIByLncc/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="320" width="150"></a>Dinner on the flight -- when we're flying smoothly enough to break out the flatware, at least -- is enjoyable. I opt for the salmon roulade appetizer, while Lucie has the chicken salad with ginger sesame dressing; she has the macadamia nut chicken entree and I have the red pepper gnocchi with cream sauce; and I have the chocolate covered vanilla ice cream bombe they offer for dessert. The bombes are kept under deep freeze with dry ice, apparently, because it takes a good 10-15 minutes before I can even break the chocolate coating with my spoon, much less scoop into the ice cream... but it's refreshingly cold, sweet and creamy, and worth the wait. a drizzle of raspberry sauce on the side adds a welcome sharp fruity bite.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSoR6kMclIgMh6RJDlqpHlDLbLVyN7w5vUfROlnLjA3JKtSqIH3kHWiwt-v27DY16bMwuIEyDLNZjt3YM4t_3jtYHvF_HK_sVzh7kMFDc5d93lRsyIFd0cyXVRLftDLUPwB6ImSA_b9iE/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_548630="null" cua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSoR6kMclIgMh6RJDlqpHlDLbLVyN7w5vUfROlnLjA3JKtSqIH3kHWiwt-v27DY16bMwuIEyDLNZjt3YM4t_3jtYHvF_HK_sVzh7kMFDc5d93lRsyIFd0cyXVRLftDLUPwB6ImSA_b9iE/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="227" width="320"></a>We arrive back in Oakland a few minutes early, and are greeted by Dean, our usual driver, who we missed on our drive up. We fall right back into casual and entertaining banter on our drive back to San Jose. Lucie briefly considers asking Dean to hit a drive through for a burger because she's never ordered fast food from a stretch limousine before, but opts not to. We take one more silly selfie of the two of us in the limo as one last digital souvenir, and arrive back at our place without incident. Dean brings our luggage up to our front door, we thank him with a nice tip and some coffee -- we do have some to spare, and we bought some specifically as a tip in case he was our driver (in all honesty I wouldn't tip Demetrius nearly as generously) -- and pronounce an end to our latest Hawaiian vacation.</div>
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--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-16373592808966083332014-01-17T14:02:00.001-08:002014-01-17T14:39:51.360-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 10: Ali'i is Love<div>
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It's our last full day in Hawai'i, and it's a strange dichotomy of not much planned for the day but still a lot that we want to do, so we're up a little early and off to breakfast. We had spoken with our waiter last night at Kai Lanai about where to find a decent macadamia nut pancake, and one of the places he recommended was the Big Island Grill, a favorite spot for locals. It's definitely a local hot spot, we find out, as we have a little difficulty finding a parking place in the lot; but luckily there's a vacant location on the far side of the lot with an open spot, so we park and enjoy the sunny morning as we walk back to the building. The coffee is passable -- not our preferred medium roast 100% Kona, but not swill either -- and the breakfast plates are generous. Lucie's macadamia nut and banana pancakes are the size of slightly-larger-than-normal Frisbees, stacked two high and slathered in buttery goodness. I see an intriguing option in the menu and go for the shrimp scampi omelet. It's shrimp scampi. In an omelet. Definitely good flavors, not shy with the garlic at all, and I'd order it again if given the chance... but it's still kind of weird to my brain as I'm eating. My taste buds say yum, nose says yum, and gray matter says what the <i>what</i>?</div>
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After breakfast, we head up to our one scheduled appointment for the day, which is just a few miles up the Mamalahoa Highway. From Mamalahoa, we turn right onto Kaloko Road, and drive for several minutes up the steep curvy road, crossing Hao Street, and a few minutes later we cross Hao street... and a minute or two after that, we turn right onto Hao street. This is confusing for most people, but it's our fifth time coming here in four trips to Hawai'i (maybe it's only our fourth trip, but for some reason I seem to remember coming up here twice one time) -- I'm talking of course about the Kaloko Cloud Forest farm location for the Mountain Thunder Coffee Plantation, and it's always a welcome sight. It's also busy -- busier than it was last time, which was busier than it was the time before that, and so on. These guys have been getting more famous and popular in the years since Mike Rowe first visited them and featured them in his show <i>Dirty Jobs</i> back in 2005, and today there are two small tour buses and half a dozen cars parked along the road and in the courtyard of the Big Island's largest and highest (elevation-wise) organic coffee plantation. We still have a few minutes before our scheduled tour, so we hit the gift shop -- located off the main courtyard in what looks like two connected shipping containers -- and fill up a couple of bags of coffee-scented lotions and coffee (whole bean, "American Roast" [their name for a light roast]), several T-shirts and a tank top that actually fit me (albeit a bit snugly, but that's only for now), chocolate covered coffee beans, some children's books for our coworkers, and assorted other items with coffee or Hawaiian themes.</div>
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Kyle, the nice guy running the register, turns out to be the host for our Roastmaster Tour, so after I bring our purchases out to our car we start roasting some beans. It's another wonderful experience roasting, as I get to operate their smaller Diedrich roaster (which is still far and away a huge beast in comparison to the quaint tiny cement mixers used for the UCC roastmaster tour) and make a little over five pounds of coffee to a city roast. I'm slightly bummed that they stopped providing the customized labels like they did last time for the bags the beans get sealed into for the final product, but that's certainly not a deal breaker -- it's really all about the beans.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYItMtGkT_H-NAVzm1G99UgFTIq5x9EZ-axdnfbdzGaDODZZgGiKWekQEQHvFMpk_onzWS4k7LniStq2Ddr4yhBQDA_tsGvOLy5gtTcE_iwToweA_OubtTdKBkwRag8LU9PwIgx5iU-_n/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_646868="null" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYItMtGkT_H-NAVzm1G99UgFTIq5x9EZ-axdnfbdzGaDODZZgGiKWekQEQHvFMpk_onzWS4k7LniStq2Ddr4yhBQDA_tsGvOLy5gtTcE_iwToweA_OubtTdKBkwRag8LU9PwIgx5iU-_n/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="320" hua="true" width="239" /></a>As with every roastmaster event I've ever done, I once again totally geek out as Kyle walks me through the steps of roasting using the Diedrich -- keeping the vents closed until the machines get to the right temperature, dumping the beans into the drum, venting air at the right time to get the beans cracking, dumping the beans at a city roast -- just a little darker than the light roast of their American Roast, but much lighter than their Vienna Roast (and just forget about their French Roast.) They're still using the huge 5-gallon Homer bucket to hold the beans before and after roasting, which just tickles me greatly; it's without a doubt the best smelling Homer bucket out there (unless there's someone who stores cooked bacon in one, in which case we need to FIND that guy and take the Baconfryer Tour which I'm assuming they offer.)</div>
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After I roast and then package the beans (heat sealed into nitrogenated bags, to preserve freshness), we head back down the mountain into town. We stop at the UPS Store and ship a suitcase full of souvenirs and food items (and, of course, coffee beans) to my work address so we don't have to pay ridiculous airport fees (although, since it turns out that we ship three 25-pound boxes of stuff, it's still not exactly cheap using UPS either!), then drive back to the hotel.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhI77-ayyuzR603848sTDSbkJ6SygjRbDWL1d8h5U8jVMl0QQc5o5dRSJLWrd2Af5vUZ0zqeL6HMdOfDPbWprzB-MsFRJCFq3wMX1JTCcIOs2iApp71336qrveqP5OCWeFbo-PvjM7-56m/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_646868="null" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhI77-ayyuzR603848sTDSbkJ6SygjRbDWL1d8h5U8jVMl0QQc5o5dRSJLWrd2Af5vUZ0zqeL6HMdOfDPbWprzB-MsFRJCFq3wMX1JTCcIOs2iApp71336qrveqP5OCWeFbo-PvjM7-56m/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="320" hua="true" width="181" /></a>From there, we decide to take one more walk along Ali'i Drive to enjoy the day before tonight's luau. We walk up the mauka (inland) side of the road, stopping along the way at the Big Island Running Company to say hello, for Lucie to thank them for inviting her on their run a few days ago, and to buy one or two more items; then up a little further where we have lunch at That Taco Place (very wide range of ratings on Yelp -- they're very slow in bringing out the food, but that's just Island Time so no worries, and the food isn't spectacular but it is tasty so it serves its purpose, and since we eat our food sitting at the counter facing the ocean it's definitely a good experience); poking our heads into the Kona Square Mall marketplace, one of our usual stops (Country Samurai Coffee provides some good swag, but Island Silversmith has closed and they don't offer sarongs any more at the other store Lucie likes); buying more stuff at Del Sol and Whaler's General Store and Big Island Kine; then crossing the street to the oceanfront mauka side of the road and heading back to the hotel. Along the way, we make more stops at two of the 4 ABC Stores along Ali'i, and at Keoki's Donkey Balls (again), and at one of the local guys selling palm fronds folded into roses, and at Hulihee Palace (we don't go in, though, because there's a coconut tree out front that keeps me at bay), and once or twice just to stop and enjoy the ocean view, and to watch the small crabs scuttling along the rocks just on the other side of the small breakwater wall along which we're walking. It's a beautiful day, sunny and crazy -- but bearably -- hot, with the ocean twenty feet to my right, and the Island beneath my feet, and my wife next to me holding my hand; there's not much at all in this world that could possibly be better, and I am very content.</div>
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We attend the luau at our hotel that evening. The food is good, as it always is; Lucie hurts her foot when we arrive, however, so we retire from the luau a little early and do our best to nurse the foot back to health by heading to the breezeway bar and having her raise it onto the wall as we drink frozen tropical drinks and watch the ocean. Don's does a good job of making everything feel better (if maybe a little blurry after several drinks.)</div>
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It's our ninth day in Hawai'i (eighth morning), and on our books for for today is our trip down the Kona coast to Volcanoes Park. We didn't get to Volcanoes on our last trip, so it's about time to visit Pele's playground and pay our respects to Kilauea; plus, we have a scheduled hiking tour of the park with Native Guide Hawaii's native Hawaiian guide Warren Costa. We're supposed to meet him at the visitor center at 09:30, and it takes more than 2 hours to get there from Kona, so it's an early morning wake up for us.</div>
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We start off slightly behind schedule, but thanks to what may be my driving a tiny bit over the posted speed limit we end up down around the south point of the island a little bit ahead of schedule; so we decide to make a brief stop at the Punalu'u Bakery ("Southernmost bakery in the USA!")... but we pull into the parking lot before they're open. This is almost becoming a theme for our vacation, but like with Kai Lanai yesterday we just shrug and decide to come back later. We get to Volcanoes National Park (now open once again, after the temporary government shutdown) and meet up with Warren right on time (he's actually a few minutes late, but that's just Island Time, which is fine.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinI-WXoOpdbA62vzEouQ1CkQnTne-1xhHdSlJwlQ4s7lWpXbtyBadGy4-X_xIKz_f1-PmVrQQmqFMRFvvdEtmtkxpPbq7bMgTdkB8EZzozRuocuAbvTJnMbremf8iqtPiWiiXAzVnNqNu/s1600/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_591958="null" height="108" hua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinI-WXoOpdbA62vzEouQ1CkQnTne-1xhHdSlJwlQ4s7lWpXbtyBadGy4-X_xIKz_f1-PmVrQQmqFMRFvvdEtmtkxpPbq7bMgTdkB8EZzozRuocuAbvTJnMbremf8iqtPiWiiXAzVnNqNu/s320/photo+4.jpg" width="320" /></a>Climbing into his minivan, we drive from the visitor center out past the steam vents close to the Jaggar Museum parking lot and park near the Kau Desert Trail, where we take our first hike -- along the trail to the edge of the main caldera, almost in the shadow of the rangers' observation post. There's no active lava flowing in plain view, but there's some definite smoke or steam or magic lava exhaust or Scientologist thetans or something rising up from the crater's activity pit of doom -- where all the Hobbits throw those gold rings -- and we stand there for a bit, oohing and ahhing while Warren talks about the latest volcanic activity. He also points out the native flora that's managing to grow from the rocky soil, such as the hapu'u tree fern and ili'ahi and ohi'a lehua and pai'iniu and pilo and lots of other plants that have names with lots of vowels and 'okinas (those apostrophe-looking fellas that make you swallow your epiglottis while speaking in the Hawaiian language) which is pretty darn interesting and educational and overall just flat-out cool.</div>
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We walk back out to the vehicle, and drive from the caldera down just a bit to the steam vents; there's a large number of tour buses parked here and a pretty sizable crown of visitors clustered around the three nearby steam vents, standing safely behind the installed fence so there's no chance of falling in. Warren walks us past those <i>boring</i> vents, through a field of wild orchids and ferns, over to what essentially becomes our very own private steam vent, without any of those pesky background noises or camera-schlepping haole or safety structures. We carefully walk down a couple of natural steps in the rock, slick with moss and steam, along the edge of the vent. The hole itself is surprisingly large and deep -- you could fit a classic Cadillac into this thing -- and standing there in the steam (very soothing and warm, with only a slight mineral smell) standing on the moist lichen-covered lava rock is both calming and nerve-wracking at the same time.</div>
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From there, we get back into the minivan and drive down the Chain of Craters Road (and just like every time I talk about Volcanoes Park, I mistakenly say "crane of chaiters" at least half the time I say it out loud) as Warren continues to talk about life in Hawai'i. The discussion ranges from the private Hawaiian cultural immersion Punana Leo preschools which strive to maintain the native culture in today's youth, to the different lava types (a'a, the fast flowing lava, and the slower pahoehoe) and the science behind how they're formed, to really cool formations such as lava trees and angel hair (needle-like strands of lava, not the pasta.) We make another quick stop along the side of the road and hike out to an unmarked pit crater (essentially a sinkhole caused by receding magma) named Devil's Throat. As with our own private steam vent, Devil's Throat is our own private pit crater for today; because it's not marked nor visible from the road, it's kind of a secret find that many locals don't even know about. Technically, though, we're not alone as we stand near the edge (not too close, Warren warns us, since the edge of pit craters have been known to collapse and it's a 165-foot drop if one were to fall in) since there's a large beehive that formed along the side of the near-vertical wall and we have a dozen or so bees flying around us as we try to remain calm and not flail at them (which would be a very unwise thing to do when standing near a 150-foot wide chasm in the earth's surface without any safety rails or fence.) I do manage to get a decent shot of the beehive below us, and we retreat back the vehicle away from wildlife.</div>
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We make one more stop further down the road, almost within sight of the end of the Crane of Chaiters Road where lava closed off the pavement, and hike on the lava for a few hundred feet until we come to the edge of the island. We stand at the edge of a cliff, seeing nothing but ocean in front of us (were the Earth flat, and with good enough binoculars, we could theoretically look due south and see Antarctica), just enjoying the day and everything we've seen and experienced today. There's a lava arch we can see off to the left, with the crashing waves making spectacular foamy photo opportunities, and maybe 50 feet back from the cliff there's a small crater in the lava, maybe 18 inches deep and five feet in diameter, which we all kind of simultaneously realize would make a great place to have the picnic lunch which comes with our tour. Warren breaks out a tablecloth and uses it as a picnic blanket, and we nosh on poke (sesame as well as creamy wasabi flavors), One Ton chips, sandwiches, fresh pineapple, and a Hawaiian take on teriyaki beef. The food is relatively simple fare but delicious, and it's actually perfect for the day's theme -- any food that's fancy or too complex just wouldn't feel right when you're eating lunch in a crater in the middle of a lava field. I'm sure you know how that is.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyIpLur6tfhWJ-Bb0SYPECXooJpyy5fTO_PiJR5yIkgrQ9e0mIg5123phWY3cEQnXGIkghnrDNqN9aOgNgyMDViND7wRX9Tp0C_CrzJqTMy91oZQ5sK_GJdBhsA6Qbo7DejM4gfkyT75TN/s1600/photo+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_591958="null" height="225" hua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyIpLur6tfhWJ-Bb0SYPECXooJpyy5fTO_PiJR5yIkgrQ9e0mIg5123phWY3cEQnXGIkghnrDNqN9aOgNgyMDViND7wRX9Tp0C_CrzJqTMy91oZQ5sK_GJdBhsA6Qbo7DejM4gfkyT75TN/s320/photo+5.jpg" width="320" /></a>Warren even takes some time helping me look for the so-called "nene", which is exactly as successful as I expect it to be; specifically, we can't find any. Sure, he hems and haws trying to come up with an excuse other than "the haole's on to us", and eventually looks up in a book -- which, and this is important, he doesn't actually let ME read myself -- that early November is roosting season for nene. Actually, I think he says it's nesting season, since a nest is built to be sat in while a roost is perched on, which is different. And that's beside the point, since I believe all nene that people see are actually manufactured in a factory somewhere by Disney imagineers or something. It's right around this time that Lucie presents me with a souvenir of Hawai'i, my very own plush nene, whom I call Santa for obvious reasons (...because he's a present, like you get at Christmas.) I figure this is as close to seeing an "actual" nene as I'm gonna get, and it really does entertain me that she was able to surprise me with this, so I'm satisfied with what I generously consider a nene sighting.</div>
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We drive down the remaining stretch of road to where everybody else gets out and hikes across the lava to where the most active flow is happening; but since there really isn't an active lava flow right now and my knee says it don't wanna we decide not to do that particular hike and drive back up Chain of Craters Road to the rim of the main caldera. Warren stops at the pleasantly-named Devastation Trail where we do an easier (on my knee, at any rate) walk along a gravel path to the edge of the crater. From here, we can look across to the other side of the ridge and see where we had been standing just a few hours ago next to the observation area by Jaggar Museum. The scenery is just as impressive from this point of view, and we ooh and ahh as Warren talks about an eruption that happened in this spot back in 1959, where the lava fountained as high as 1900 feet at one point, creating the angled peak where we're standing.</div>
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We make one more stop at Nāhuku, a.k.a. the Thurston Lava Tube, and walk through the lush rain forest to do some volcanic spelunking. This is our first time walking through the tube; during previous visits we either had on the wrong footwear or my back and/or knees were too bad to make the hike. We enjoy the remarkable quiet forest setting, hearing the songbirds and enjoying the copious shade from the trees overhead, make our way carefully down the stairs and across the bridge that spans the chasm leading into the tunnel (Warren motions over the side of the bridge to the rocks below, pointing out some cameras and sunglasses accidentally dropped by previous visitors), through the dark and wet lava tube, and back out into the Hawaiian jungle on the other side. It's still weird to me -- in a really cool way -- that we're standing in a rain forest with trees a hundred feet high and ground that is permanently wet from condensation and no direct sunlight getting through the canopy overhead, and there's a barren desertlike wasteland less than a quarter mile away from the volcanic activity. It's just one more way the the Big Island is so freaking awesome.</div>
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We drive back to the Visitor Center and say our goodbyes to Warren, thanking him profusely for the experience. If we had just relied on following the road or using the pamphlets for what to do we'd never have experienced half of what we did today. From the best lookout spots to the hidden secret steam vents and pit craters, it's definitely one of the more educational and science-geeky experiences we've had in Hawai'i, and I am very grateful for his expertise and knowledge, not to mention his easy-going attitude and adaptability to the challenge of taking an old fat guy with a bad knee hiking on lava. Warren Costa, you are a good dude. Mahalo.</div>
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On our way back to the hotel, we make two more stops, making up for previous missed opportunities... first at Punalu'u Bakery where we share some malasadas and cold beverages (and buy some of their shortbread cookies for bringing back to the Mainland), and for dinner at Kai Lanai. Finally experiencing Sam Choy's Big Island eatery is nice -- we don't have reservations so we don't get a totally unimpeded view of the sunset, but enough of a view to still be enjoyable, and the food is worthy of celebrity chef association. For our appetizers we split the shoyu poke and an order of coconut glazed short ribs -- the poke is a slightly deeper flavor than what we normally eat, due to the more intense Japanese shoyu when compared to the Americanized Chinese soy sauce, but it's good if a little salty for Lucie's taste; and the coconut glazed short ribs are a great combination of crisp skin, toothy mean, savory pork goodness, and light sweet hit from the glaze. It's not only really tasty, it's not a flavor combination we've had yet this trip (nothing against raw tuna, but poke is always a variation on a theme as far as the different flavors are concerned; but glazed dry cooked short ribs have their own porky niche in the island mealtime echelon.) For the main course, Lucie opts for the New York steak and I go with the furikake crusted mahi mahi -- unfortunately, most of the sauces offered with their daily specials have too much cream for the lactose intolerant to enjoy, but her steak is at least a very good one, so there's that. The mahi mahi is light and buttery, just a hint of dry bitterness from the furikake, and the accompanying piña colada I order from the bar is crazy strong, so that's a nice thing. Dessert is a chocolate cake for Lucie and coconut chocolate mousse for me, along with a cup of French press Kona coffee medium roast. Sweet, sugary, and caffeinated is pretty much always a good thing.</div>
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--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-9718717389528314832014-01-08T15:10:00.001-08:002014-01-08T22:41:45.383-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 8: Hawi Doin'<div>We awake on another day in paradise, but even in paradise we feel the need to keep in shape; so we decide to check out the exercise room at our hotel and see what kinds of equipment it has.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The exercise room is actually a repurposed ground floor hotel room, and not exactly a large room at that, so there isn't much they can do with it -- there's a treadmill, an elliptical, a recumbent bicycle, some free weights, a small bench, and a couple Pilates balls. Lucie starts off on the treadmill and I give the bicycle a go, but quickly find that as with most exercise bicycles I can't adjust the seat to where my leg doesn't bend to the point of pain when pedaling, so I move to the free weights. We work out for a half hour or so, with Lucie moving to the elliptical and bicycle as I focus on the free weights, utilizing the Pilates ball for wall squats, and opening the sliding door and planking using the lanai wall facing the ocean right in front of us. It's not the best exercise setup, but we certainly can't complain about the view while we're working out.</div><div><br />
</div><div>After exercising, we head back to our room and prepare for the day. During our last visit to the Big Island, we had wanted to stop by Hawaii's favorite celebrity chef Sam Choy's new restaurant Kai Lanai; however, the construction had been running on Island Time and didn't open on time before our arrival, so we missed out. This time, however, the restaurant has been open for a while (not surprising, as it's been over two years since our last vacation) so we figure we can try them out for an early lunch before heading up to Hawi... but due to our being maybe a little too casual and relaxed on our vacation we don't bother to check out the restaurant's hours before we drive there, so we end up arriving about 45 minutes before they open for the day. D'ohh.</div><div><br />
</div><div>No worries -- we decide to try them again some other time, and instead of waiting around until the doors open we opt to drive up to Hawi and have lunch at one of the places up there that we've read about. We head up along the Kohala coast highway one more time, much like we did for the Hilo trip; however, at the point where yesterday we headed inland toward Waimea staying on highway 19 we instead turn left and take highway 270 along the coast. It's a beautiful drive, hilly and mostly straight, with an outstanding ocean view almost the entire way. It's pretty windy, but seeing as we're in a convertible with the top down the wind doesn't really matter to us. This stretch of road is what they use for the bicycle portion of the Ironman Challenge, which definitely gives us a huge amount of respect for the athletes for not getting distracted by the scenery and riding off the cliff and falling a hundred feet into the ocean. Oh yeah, and maybe that whole healthy lifestyle thing too, but mostly it's the willpower not to ride off cliffs.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We eventually arrive at the small artist colony town of Hawi, find a parking spot, and wander the stores for a bit. Our first stop is at the Kohala Coffee Mill (surprise -- a coffee store!) where we grab a refreshing coffee beverage, and head upstairs to the kava and fudge shop located on the second floor. We don't bother with the kava -- not for us, thanks -- but we do get some fudge for later. I get the Mexican chocolate, a dark chocolate flavor with cinnamon hints, and Lucie goes for the tiger stripe, a sweeter and more intense version of the Reese's peanut butter cup with peanut butter in white chocolate. With the fudge threatening to put us into a sugar coma there's really no need for kava anyway (not that it's something I'd ever drink regardless.) Needing something more savory after sampling the fudge, we look for one of the restaurants we'd read about before our trip... unfortunately, though, the popular local spot Bamboo isn't open on Mondays, so that's out; and we hear from one of the coffee mill employees that the Lighthouse Deli, home of what is supposed to be a downright fantastic reuben sandwich, suddenly closed about two weeks ago without any notice. Bummer. We decide to find someplace further up the road, so after one more walk up down the main street through town (lots of blown glass and lampwork jewelry, ridiculously expensive carved koa wood furniture, and the entertainingly-named-but-has-nothing-that-fits-me store Alohaman) we get back into Betty and drive a few miles into the small artist colony town of Kapa'au. Lots of small artist colony towns in Hawai'i.<br />
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</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5m33pq2-Qp4fGN_6gEl35gBl_u0UxL_iBvmNaTC9PrJwDn3AaXfIaNWoi9kjIRvE9f22iEoST-AzHpxpV83mgeDgWR7OSZlRbyW27FWuKbEp8QvKT32QpBiIk-jht-7FLrOCvjBQ-ozbg/s640/blogger-image--589519342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5m33pq2-Qp4fGN_6gEl35gBl_u0UxL_iBvmNaTC9PrJwDn3AaXfIaNWoi9kjIRvE9f22iEoST-AzHpxpV83mgeDgWR7OSZlRbyW27FWuKbEp8QvKT32QpBiIk-jht-7FLrOCvjBQ-ozbg/s320/blogger-image--589519342.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div>We park at the North Kohala Civic Center in the center of town and visit the main attraction, the original statue of King Kamehameha I (originally made for Honolulu but lost at sea en route near the Falkland Islands in the 1880s; the replacement is in Honolulu but the original statue, found in 1912 and restored, is in Kapa'au near Kamehameha's birth place.) It's shortly after noon when we arrive and the statue is on a small hill facing west at the top of a set of stairs, so it's a bit of a challenge getting a good picture of the statue without the sun blinding you, but I manage. The statue itself is impressive, historic, and (sort of) appeared in an episode of Hawai'i Five-0 this season, but apparently is too aloof to sign any autographs or anything, but that's okay; we still pay our respects to the bronze dude, and to another nearby memorial for Hawaiian veterans, and also to the King's View Deli across the street for a cold drink and small bite to eat before looking for a real meal to satisfy us.</div><div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOw49h5er2u2Dzen0btSzXvbVaZg3WSfIoVn83-SMmBw6cYIbmLS4A_pW7empOnwhWkXdonitG9658w_UkgMAGSA_vcWNV9ugMv8Z96F73OnZ0-QuSFYWd-oD1eBlqJ6N3dTh71Q-Osnc/s640/blogger-image-365773174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOw49h5er2u2Dzen0btSzXvbVaZg3WSfIoVn83-SMmBw6cYIbmLS4A_pW7empOnwhWkXdonitG9658w_UkgMAGSA_vcWNV9ugMv8Z96F73OnZ0-QuSFYWd-oD1eBlqJ6N3dTh71Q-Osnc/s320/blogger-image-365773174.jpg" width="240" /></a>We find lunch at Fig's Mix Plate, where we share a loco moco. The burger patty is ground beef perfection, crunchy char on the outside and smoky flavor, roughly the size of a hubcap; the macaroni salad is a bit too heavy with the mayo but otherwise good; and the plain rice is raised to new heights by the best stinkin' soy sauce ever, Tabasco brand spicy soy sauce, which I desperately try to find at every store in Hawai'i for the rest of our trip but am unable to procure. We belatedly realize that this might actually be the first real mix plate we've eaten on vacation, which is surprising as well as a kind of nice indicator that we're willing to branch out with our culinary endeavors.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOw49h5er2u2Dzen0btSzXvbVaZg3WSfIoVn83-SMmBw6cYIbmLS4A_pW7empOnwhWkXdonitG9658w_UkgMAGSA_vcWNV9ugMv8Z96F73OnZ0-QuSFYWd-oD1eBlqJ6N3dTh71Q-Osnc/s640/blogger-image-365773174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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</div><div>Heading back along the coast, we make a few stops at scenic points we saw on the way up, most notably at Mahukona Beach Park... this is a state park without an actual beach ("mahukona" in Hawaiian is "false harbor"), an old port with an abandoned building nestled amidst picnic tables; a former property of the Kohala Sugar Company. Back in the late 1800s it was a railroad stop and sugar mill, and became one of the busiest ports on the Big Island despite being destroyed by a storm in 1911, and which was shut down and eventually abandoned during WWII. There's still a run down but impressive building behind a safety fence, a concrete pyramid lighthouse, and parts of the sugar mill and even a sunken ship that can be seen by snorkelers about 25 feet beneath the waves. It's not much of a beach per se, and snorkelers need to climb up and down a ladder to get into the water to avoid the lava rocks along the shore, but the scenery is outstanding. We relax for a bit, take a few selfies, listen to the waves and watch the rock crabs scuttling around the water's edge, and then get back on our way.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CLDbdMe07MKfCBlqTIPbKyJ4aAxoGow1bplfPo-3Xc07FjOutJH7SztPHD97S1J04tM6CrLIl_kFFvUQzLyP9bvmbvzbjit4QRkEuluYd85YDltjHIPBo_wD9zZCrq9dVKlVP7Fe4gaZ/s640/blogger-image-1224093311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CLDbdMe07MKfCBlqTIPbKyJ4aAxoGow1bplfPo-3Xc07FjOutJH7SztPHD97S1J04tM6CrLIl_kFFvUQzLyP9bvmbvzbjit4QRkEuluYd85YDltjHIPBo_wD9zZCrq9dVKlVP7Fe4gaZ/s320/blogger-image-1224093311.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
</div><div>A bit further down the highway, we take another stop at the Mauna Lani Resort and Rich Person Storage Facility, where we take a brief walk down to the water at Holoholokai Beach Park and dip our feet into the ocean (much more accessible than at Mahukona Beach Park) but opt not to take the half hour hiking path out to see the petroglyphs they have there. Another few miles down the highway we also drive around the Waikoloa Resort and Secondary Rich Person Storage Facility, through the shopping centers they have, and I find myself entertained by what could be perceived as the gender-biased difference between their Queen's Marketplace (featuring shops such as Lids, Starbucks, Crocs, and Sunglass Hut) and their King's Shops (with the much more costly Coach, Luis Vuitton, Tommy Bahama, and Na Hoku Jewelers.) We don't actually want to shop here -- and in the case of the King's Shops probably couldn't afford to anyway -- so we continue driving along the coast back to our hotel.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We spend the remainder of our day in full-on relaxation mode, watching the sun set from our lanai, then heading down to the mai tai bar for a drink, then getting a couples massage from the hotel's spa, and finally having another drink or two at the bar before heading upstairs to bed. the tropical drinks are sweet and potent, the massage is therapeutic (though a bit too vigorous in Lucie's case), and the sunset is, though obscured by clouds at the horizon, still beautiful.</div><div><br />
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</div>--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-33423150675510420092013-12-17T14:38:00.000-08:002013-12-17T14:53:13.140-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 7: We go Head Over Hilo<div>
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We wake up in the morning, wave hello to the cruise ship in the bay -- another sign of the recovering economy is the return of a cruise ship dropping off tourists almost every day -- and prepare for today's outing, our obligatory trip across the island to Hilo. Well, technically, it's going <i>around</i> the island, not "across" -- Saddle Road, which cuts over Mauna Kea, is still under construction, dangerous, and generally prohibited by car rental companies; so that's not really an option for us. For tourists, the two options are to go up and around the island through Kohala / Waimea, or down and around through Volcanoes and Puna; since we're planning on visiting Volcanoes in a couple days from now, we opt to head up and around (which is also actually the only way we've ever done it, since going the southern route can take about an hour or so longer.)</div>
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For the trip up, we stay on the coastal highway along the Kohala Coast, up past the airport, all of the various white sand beaches and high-end resorts, and through the lava fields until we reach the turnoff for Hawi. Since we're planning on doing <i>that</i> tomorrow, we head away from Hawi and go through Waimea, past Parker Ranch, passing and waving hello to Waipio Valley, and making our first stop at the Hawaiian Vanilla Company in Pa'auilo. Remembering our last adventure when Google Maps tried (successfully) to get us lost, we use the driving directions on the vanilla company's web site and arrive without incident.</div>
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The store is technically open, but in a strange turn of events, there's absolutely nobody around when we arrive. No tour buses, no lunch events, and no other drop-in tourists; it's just us and the teenage son of the owners, who happens to be around in the kitchen -- "if I hadn't been here, you'd be out of luck because there's nobody else here today," he says. However, it's a good thing for them he <i>is</i> here, because we give him the biggest sale he's seen in a while; buying various baking items, lotions, soaps, teas, and snack foods, and we also decide to have a light lunch while we're here. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn38igN1cEvwFpCH7G2Iai60OPOG87dHmlWYbRTzItzSjFF3GesFSDAcNgWnedIcP1bVBo0JRdoCeCQUIbgIjvUV5hNQX8uI0nmI53NzJHxjjwwUcjGPDrIRflX7pf7yIR-VFKhzz_yv1R/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_336105="null" dua="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn38igN1cEvwFpCH7G2Iai60OPOG87dHmlWYbRTzItzSjFF3GesFSDAcNgWnedIcP1bVBo0JRdoCeCQUIbgIjvUV5hNQX8uI0nmI53NzJHxjjwwUcjGPDrIRflX7pf7yIR-VFKhzz_yv1R/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="212" /></a><br />
The light lunch is actually just a dessert course, since that's kind of what they specialize in -- Lucie gets their vanilla liliko'i pound cake, I get the vanilla bread pudding a la mode with vanilla rum caramel sauce for myself, and we split the vanilla fudge brownie. The pound cake is incredibly powerful passionfruit flavor, sharp and intensely sweet, if a little dry; the brownie is slightly crispy on the outside and just gooey enough on the inside, more dark chocolate than vanilla flavor that we can taste but still delicious; the bread pudding is just freaking INCREDIBLE, light and sweet and boozy, crazy hot out of the oven tempered with the frozen vanilla bean (of course!) ice cream, chewy and dense and just fantastic. I don't even want to know the calorie count of the thing, but this is an absolutely amazing dish. I'm a little afraid of blinking after eating this thing, since I'm pretty sure my eyeballs have crystallized because of all the sugar I've just eaten and the sugar crystals might scratch the insides of my eyelids. Plus, it's HUGE -- I'm unable to finish the thing and need to bring part of it and half the brownie back with us for later that night.</div>
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We take a few minutes to digest, then head out to our car and continue on along the Hamakua Coast until we get to Hilo. We continue through Hilo to the far side of the city, and stop at Hershey's Mauna Loa Macadamia Nut Corporation and Haole Tourist Air-Conditioned Shopping Mega-Emporium where we buy some stuff (which is -- you guessed it -- macadamia nuts) for friends, family, and coworkers, and possibly for our own snacking purposes later. Form there, we go to Hilo Hattie's, where I stumble across a nifty find -- because of 1) the Kona Coffee Cultural Festival, 2) the 200th anniversary of coffee being introduced to Hawaii (first brought to O'ahu in 1813, though not to Kona until 1828), and 3) Hilo Hattie's 50th anniversary, all of their coffee themed clothing is on sale for 30% off. I buy coffee-themed T-shirts, coffee-themed Hawaiian shirts, some coffee (also technically coffee-themed, I suppose), Hawaiian salts and other food items, and some other souvenir-type stuff. After that, we head to Ken's House of Pancakes for lunch, because all of that shopping had made us hungry.</div>
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Ken's still has their late 1960s look and feel, quaint and comforting; some people may criticize them for not having the tastiest food in Hilo, but for us it's not just about the food itself, it's about the experience... and besides, the food we have is pretty darn good so it's all a win as far as we're concerned. I go for the corned beef hash and Lucie goes for the char siu noodles, lightly pan fried noodles with the smoky sweetness of nicely glazed pork. And, because it's the main thing we remember from our last trip here, we feel the need to have the pineapple upside down cake for dessert... it's still steaming hot, dense syrupy cinnamon pooling around the base, ice cream on the side per our request. It's a good lunch.</div>
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While we're eating, we try and locate our next planned stop for today, Big Island Candies. We both use our iPhones to find their location, and we opt to use the directions from Lucie's iPhone 5 instead of my new iPhone 5s. See, there's an issue with the new phone's GPS sensing (which has since been fixed, but not on this day) which -- possibly combined with what I feel is Hawaii's attempts to get us lost when we use technology -- that has it telling us we need to drive into the ocean to get to the candy factory. I don't remember seeing anything about an underwater secret lair on their website, so it's possible that my phone <br />
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may have the location of Big Island Candies a little bit wrong. Using Lucie's phone, however, we find them without incident -- it's actually only about 5 minutes from Ken's, which is nice serendipity -- and head past a small crowd of Japanese tourists with their translators waiting for the tour bus into the store. They specialize in shortbread cookies and chocolate, so we buy large amounts of both in our survivalist goal of staving off future carbodehydration (I've heard that's a real thing and we must at all costs avoid it.)</div>
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We head back out past the tourists (now much larger in number) and head back toward Kona. It's about a two and a half to three hour drive, so it's about dinner time once we get to Kamuela, about two thirds of the way back. Lucie's heard about a burger joint that's supposed to be very good -- picked as the best burgers in the state of Hawai'i by USA Today a while back -- and she wants to give them a try. It's a little difficult to find -- we have the address available, but the restaurant is tucked into a corner of a strip mall and we drive past it a couple of times before Lucie sees their sign -- but the food is definitely worth it.<br />
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I get their gorgonzola burger, a 6.5-ounce patty made with local Parker Ranch beef cooked to a light pink medium and topped with a crazy-thick slab of gorgonzola cheese and bacon, served on a pleasingly crunchy toasted roll from a local bakery -- everything that Village Burger makes is done using local ingredients. When I first see the size of the slab of gorgonzola cheese, I'm more than a little concerned that the cheese will completely overpower everything else as blue cheeses are prone to do, but these fears are totally unfounded -- the flavor is mild enough so it works perfectly with the bacon and the beef, and it's overall a succulent, juicy, and downright awesome food experience. Lucie goes for their Kahua Ranch wagyu beef burger with bacon and avocado -- it also looks amazing, but she says afterwards it's a little gamey for her tastes though not too bad. We share an order of their twice-cooked french fries -- all good fries should be twice cooked for optimal crunch and creamy interior texture -- with wasabi mayonnaise, and I get a vanilla milkshake with 2 shots of espresso to stay alert for the drive home.</div>
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We opt to drive back to Kailua-Kona using the more inland Mamalahoa Highway instead of our outgoing choice of the coastal Queen Ka'ahumanu Highway; not that much of a difference in times but a different driving experience with the narrower mountain road and lush foliage. It rains a little bit on the way back so we need to put the top up on our Mustang (whom we have dubbed "Betty" -- we used Mustang Sally last time, so went with a different name but still a Ford), but nothing too bad at all. It's dark when we get back into town, but decide to head upstairs to bed instead of heading down to the bar. It's been a long day, filled with good food and scenery; no need to supplement with plastic drink-accessory monkeys. Those can wait until tomorrow.</div>
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--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-45126675609338073242013-12-07T00:20:00.000-08:002013-12-07T12:03:05.536-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 6: Coffee Run<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6mIYL_PhWuyaSKjXU0M7s7w3O_BUe-yz5XoB5f8GCy5ppAOhoIjKq0QVKPilm6ZHYWC6tMPKcySKeex7dCUkXoZRTzDBjarK-DztPEhjL3MnkBC18pXYOo4t5ZmS8OS75fpj0UpikLB7d/s640/blogger-image-1651142232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6mIYL_PhWuyaSKjXU0M7s7w3O_BUe-yz5XoB5f8GCy5ppAOhoIjKq0QVKPilm6ZHYWC6tMPKcySKeex7dCUkXoZRTzDBjarK-DztPEhjL3MnkBC18pXYOo4t5ZmS8OS75fpj0UpikLB7d/s320/blogger-image-1651142232.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We wake up earlier than usual on our first full day in the Big Island, so Lucie can make it to Big Island Running Company for their 06:30 couch to 5K group. This means we need to get up around 5 or so, which for a vacation day that doesn't involve greeting the sunrise on Haleakala is just weird; but Lucie is very eager to get some running in, and we end up being the first people there. Within just a minute or two, however, the rest of the group shows up (maybe they were hiding in the bushes making nene noises to mess with people -- not sure and don't want to hazard any guesses [it was nene noises, I'm sure of it]) and they head out for their run along Ali'i Drive. My knee is only begrudgingly willing to do any kind of distance walking, and certainly not willing to do ANY kind of running, so I force myself to go over to Kona Haven for a leisurely breakfast while Lucie exercises.<br />
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From there, we drive down Ali'i Drive (Lucie has a few flashbacks to the run when we go uphill) to Keauhou, just a few miles south of Kailua-Kona and the location of this year's coffee festival. We arrive at the Keauhou Shopping Center, but take a quick side trip at the farmer's market that's also taking place here today. We wander through the stalls; I buy a couple bags of coffee from new farms I discover, some extra-spicy macadamia nuts, and a few jars of handmade jams -- chocolate macadamia nut (think Nutella, but with macadamia instead of hazelnuts) and POG (passionfruit-orange-guava, one of Hawaii's favorite drink flavors) -- and when it gets closer to lunchtime we wander over to the coffee festival.<br />
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Last time we came to the festival, it was being held at the old Kona airport location, had a parade along Ali'i Drive on the final weekend, and even had a one-mile running event; this year, however, it seems very much downsized... no parade or Miracle Mile (Melissa at the Big Island Running Company says it wasn't financially feasible to close Ali'i Drive only for the run once they couldn't piggyback on the parade), and several of the art exhibits have been moved to other venues like a quilting store (for the coffee quilts) and the nearby Keauhou Resort's convention area (their coffee-themed art exhibit.) They do have several small coffee farms exhibiting their wares, so I stock up on several new bags of medium roast whole bean, we stop for a minute to appreciate the Polynesian dancing, buy a Kona Coffee Cultural Festival tote bag, and have lunch at their food vendors. We look through the options and decide on the local high school volunteers offering mix plates -- Lucie gets the Korean chicken and chicken long rice; I go for the Korean chicken and smoke meat. The chicken long rice is chicken pieces cooked in thick rice noodles, funky glassy appearance and pretty mushy in texture, but good flavor; the smoke meat is essentially a char siu without the barbecue coating, satisfying with a densely smoky hit; the Korean chicken is fried chicken with a slightly sweet note to the crispy coating, perfectly cooked and crunchy, slightly peppery and oily but in a very good way. We also have two huge bottles of water -- it's very muggy and humid today --<br />
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Our first stop along this leg of the tour is once again also the first coffee farm (we do tend to visit the farms in the order in which they're encountered; doesn't seem efficient to backtrack on the winding narrow roads just to mix things up), Hula Daddy. We stop by, take a picture of the large clock tower they have nicely decorated for the Christmas season still a month and a half away, take part in a sampling they're doing as we arrive -- it's a dark roast, slightly bitter but pleasingly strong -- and buy a bunch of coffee and coffee related items. From there, we cruise down the road a ways and stop at UCC, or Ueshima Coffee Company, a Japanese-owned farm. They're not very busy at the moment, so when we inquire about taking their Roastmaster tour where we roast our own beans (which we've done at UCC every visit to the Big Island), they say we can do that immediately if so desired, which we do. Our shopmaster is Jeff, who hosted the Roastmaster tour on our last trip; our host this time around is Bertha, who walks us through the roasting process using their bank of tiny cement mixer coffee roasters. Newly roasted coffee in hand (slightly more than medium roast -- they're using non-prime beans for the customers to roast so the bean sizes aren't very uniform and some of them come out a bit darker than I normally prefer) and additional bags of professionally roasted beans, Coffee Pretz, a cup of coffee ice cream (which Jeff gives us for free, along with a cup of nicely strong iced coffee which I gladly accept), and other coffee items added on, we bid goodbye to UCC and continue on down the road just as a large contingent of Japanese tourists pulls up.<br />
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Our next stop is Blue Sky, in the town of Holoalua, there's a large crowd here already -- another sign of the recovering economy, there's a tour van filled with Japanese tourists that seems to be pacing us along the drive -- so we just stop by long enough to pick up a couple of bags of coffee (their estate coffee, whole bean, medium roast, which is all we're trying to buy when we buy coffee) before continuing down the road. We make a quick stop at a roadside store for cold bottled water and some cookies, then make our way down through Kealakekua until we reach Kona Joe, home of the downright best-ever espresso smoothie I've ever had. It's slightly changed from our last visit, now called a Kona Joe Coffee Smoothie, and they've added a subtle little cinnamon flavor from what I remember, but this actually only improves the flavor for me, adding some of the sharp sweetness of cassia to the smooth and deep coffee baseline -- I need to stop myself after having two, or I'd end up sitting on their covered patio overlooking the ocean with a frozen coffee beverage in hand all day (which isn't really all that bad an idea, but probably a lot higher in calories than is recommended by any sane dietician.) We mosey through the gift shop, grab a bag or two of their coffee offerings -- not too much, as Kona Joe tends to run a little on the more expensive side and it's not like we're really hurting for Kona coffee at this point so we can be a little choosy -- and head back up the Mamalahoa to our hotel for dinner and drinks and drinks.<br />
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We drop off the several armloads of coffee in our hotel room, then head down to Don the Beachcomber's restaurant -- or, more accurately, to Don's Mai Tai Bar located outside on the patio and walkway, and not to the actual restaurant itself. Same menu available, but those wonderful, comfortable, relaxing lounge chairs facing the sunset (which by this time has already gone down, but we're not going to stop our relaxation plans because of that.) Lucie gets the standard burger with sweet potato fries, and I go for the Bleu Hawaiian burger with bleu cheese and sautéed mushrooms -- the sweet potato fries they have here are Lucie's favorite, which is both great (because she can enjoy them while on vacation) and horrible (because she can only enjoy them like every two years or so) -- accompanied with a ginger aioli, they really are spectacular. I also partake (a little more than is wise, <br />
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We relax for a bit longer as the ocean crashes onto the rocks in front of us, then head upstairs for the night. While we were sitting in the chairs, there was apparently some remodeling done on the hotel that I didn't notice, as the floor is now a little tilted and blurry-looking for some reason. I hope they fix that by tomorrow.<br />
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.--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-32702875242467035542013-12-04T16:34:00.002-08:002013-12-04T16:34:46.469-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 5: Living Big<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zcm5klzlPhgl6y1ILUuZhhbdeMFvRnbkyOq6wk4Ee8O_Hr0PKaeHIGjPe-j0Vy9qfzXeDYGqP-RQkP8sRclvnQzU50cMzZhVcGKuDs7eSEbDM_k6JLFCsrJDYlncQzPkPbyfUh9ObKWO/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_589465="null" eua="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zcm5klzlPhgl6y1ILUuZhhbdeMFvRnbkyOq6wk4Ee8O_Hr0PKaeHIGjPe-j0Vy9qfzXeDYGqP-RQkP8sRclvnQzU50cMzZhVcGKuDs7eSEbDM_k6JLFCsrJDYlncQzPkPbyfUh9ObKWO/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="193" /></a>We wake up -- once again a little bit early -- on our last day on Maui; we don't have much time to dawdle this morning as we need to complete packing our suitcases and head down to the main lobby for Ka'anapali Beach Hotel's lei ceremony for their departing guests. Started after the 9/11 attack as a way of showing support for their guests who were stranded in the hotel (airlines stopped flying, a lot of financial issues with banks and credit companies, and people who had only planned to stay for a few nights found themselves staying for a month or more), and to demonstrate their welcoming attitude and aloha, the hotel gives a brown kukui nut lei to each guest; and every time a guest returns (and brings along the lei) they exchange one of the brown kukui nuts for a white one, to signify an increasing of the light which the kukui symbolizes. During the ceremony, Malihini gets a little emotional as she explains its history and significance -- she does nothing, it seems, without putting her entire heart into the act. After a warm hug, she bids us aloha, we respond mahalo and a hui hou, and we drive back across the island to Kahului's OGG airport. I drop Lucie off at the departures area, return the car (as it turns out, we didn't actually drive nearly as much this trip as we did last visit, but I'm still very happy we traded in the town car for a 300), and grab the shuttle back to the airport for the flight.</div>
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There's a long wait at the departures gate, as the arriving plane is running a bit late, and the impatient tourists are a bit chaotic once the plane finally arrives and is cleared for boarding; but First Class has its privileges and we get to board the place ahead of the crowd. The Hawaiian Airlines inter-island shuttle is relatively unexciting, save for the fact that we're headed to the Big Island, our favorite (well, favorite island so far, since we haven't been to them all yet), to hit the last few days of the Kona Coffee Cultural Festival. Once we land on the Big Island, there's also a long wait at the car rental place (the economy's recovery also means a larger than usual surge in tourism, which is great for Hawaii's economy but in all honesty kind of a pain for our hopes for a quiet vacation), but eventually I get our vehicle -- a Mustang (nice!) convertible (of course!) -- and we head down to Kailua-Kona. We drive past all of the stores along Ali'i Drive, and check in to the Royal Kona Resort.<br />
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Once checked in, we take just a minute or two to get reacquainted with our hotel (same corner oceanfront view, only we're on the third floor this time instead of the 6th or 7th like the last few times), then venture back out into the humidity for a walk along Ali'i. The previous trips, I wasn't in good enough shape (more than a little embarrassed to admit that) to walk for very long; but this time around I'm a bit lighter and have better endurance (though ironically a worse knee), so looking forward to being a pedestrian tourist for a change.</div>
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Our first stop is one that Lucie has been looking forward to ever since she started running, the Big Island Running Company. They're Hawaiian, they're a running company, and they have branded clothing that says "Run Aloha" and "Run Big" -- what's not to love? It's surprisingly close to our hotel, only the first cluster of businesses on the other side of the street, tucked back a little ways behind a sand volleyball court, and it's staffed by a wonderfully friendly and enthusiastic gal named Melissa, who encourages us to take part in their weekly Saturday morning run the next day. My knee isn't up for running, but since it's a "couch to 5K" running group Lucie believes she's up for the challenge -- she already completed a couch to 5K on her own back home and thinks she can handle the Hawaiian humidity -- and makes plans for tomorrow morning. We buy a bunch of Big Island running items, for ourselves and for family, and move on.<br />
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Our next stop is next door at Kona Haven, a coffee shop (I know, right? In Kona?) where I buy an iced coffee with a couple shots of espresso added, grab some bottles of water, and a bag or two of their coffee offerings, a brand called Kona de Pele. I'm assuming they're referring to the Hawaiian volcano goddess instead of the soccer player, but the coffee is mighty tasty regardless of the moniker's inspiration. From there, we figure it's about time for a light early dinner, so we look at our options and decide on Thai Rin, about a block away. It's not one of the busy and loud bars or cantinas that are everywhere, which we'd just as soon avoid; it's not a chain like Bubba Gump or Subway, and it's not very crowded. As it turns out, this might be because the food isn't exactly spectacular... it's not bad either, just average and a little bland, which is surprising for Thai food. Lucie has the chicken pad see ew, and I opt for the tofu in Thai garlic sauce. I locate the container of chili sauce that's available, and do get the food to my desired level of spice and flavor after several scoops (probably about a third of the container.) We continue along the road, past the farmer's market, until we get to Kona Henna Studios.<br />
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We've been here twice before, getting temporary tattoos to celebrate our visit, and have always appreciated their artistry and skill with henna; this is no exception. Lucie gets a hibiscus pattern on her right ankle and a honu on her left foot; I go for my own designs -- the same tribal take on the San Jose Sharks logo that I got last time on my right calf, and something a little different on my right forearm, a coffee mug with some coffee bean honu swimming into it. I describe what I envision, using the store's child-distraction device of a magnetic drawing pad to explain in <br />
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better detail (something that amuses Lucie a lot, because that's really kind of a geek thing to do on my part), and our artist does a great job making it a reality. We realize belatedly that since Lucie now has henna on her foot and can't wear her sandals for the next few hours until the henna sets, that we kind of need to head back to the hotel instead of walking further along Ali'i. Oops.<br />
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We take our time meandering back, not only to go easy on the soles of Lucie's bare feet, but also because there's still a lot to see and do... we stop at a bike rental place and look into renting bicycles -- it's a good idea and one we'll definitely do next vacation, but they only rent the bikes, helmets, and locks, and we'd need some serious hydration if we wanted to ride; so we make a mental note to bring our Camelbak bottles and backpacks, and our own helmets, for next time. We poke around at the Keoki's Donkey Balls store, buying some of their huge chocolate covered macadamia nuts and some other coffee-related items for us and for friends and family. We also take a short break and have dessert at the Daylight Mind coffee roasters restaurant, where we find a quiet table by the ocean and nosh a bit. We share some chocolate covered strawberries, Lucie has their chocolate coconut cake, I go for their brownie sundae, and also have a chocolate spiced rum coffee milkshake. The combination of sweet, sweet, sugary, and intensely sweet proves to be -- surprisingly -- very sweet. Very tasty, a good combination of textures with the gooey crunch of brownie, the cold smooth ice cream, and thick milkshake, and all of it refreshingly cold on this hot and humid evening... but very very sweet.<br />
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We take a brief poke around the goods for sale in the lobby, I pick up a couple bags of freshly roasted coffee from two of the roasters' local affiliate farms (Kona Earth and Papa Kona) and an aloha shirt for this year's Kona Coffee Cultural Festival, and we continue on our way. The roadside walkway is a little rough on Lucie's feet, but we make it back nearly without incident -- the only casualty is that the exercise and humidity makes me sweat profusely, and the henna on my forearm slides a little and becomes less clear. You can still tell what it's supposed to be, but it's not as sharp as the Sharks logo or Lucie's patterns, so that's a bit of a bummer, but certainly not in any way anything that subtracts from the appreciation and enjoyment that we feel being back on the Big Island.<br />
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After the henna dries, we clean it off and admire the results, then head to bed for the evening; we've got an early morning ahead of us.<br />
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--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-69558514162682002602013-12-02T21:21:00.001-08:002013-12-02T23:39:52.349-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 4: Sea Trek<div>
Our day starts relatively early once again -- not as early as the day previous when we exercised before breakfast, but earlier than usual for us. Actually, we both end up waking up somewhat early every single day during our vacation -- might be the time change between California and Hawai'i, might be different beds than what we're used to, might be the thought of not wanting to spend time sleeping when we could be doing vacationy-type stuff; could be any number of reasons.</div>
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The reason for today, however, is that we have a morning launch out of Ma'alaea Harbor for a snorkeling adventure with Trilogy Tours. We had used Trilogy last time for our day trip to Lana'i, and trust they'll provide a similarly great experience this trip as well. Our drive along the oceanfront highway is a little slow due to road construction (because the highway sits right up against the ocean in some places, there's a near-constant amount of repairs that need to be done to combat the erosion and water damage to the roadway) so we get to the harbor and onto the vessel, Trilogy V, right on time instead of early as I'd hoped; but still not a problem as the crew is on their version of island time and takes a somewhat casual approach to schedule promptness.</div>
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Once on the boat we're introduced to the captain, Captain Martin Kirk (who oddly wants to be called Captain Martin instead of the so much more obvious and geekily awesome Captain Kirk), and to the rest of the crew -- snuba instructor Chad, and mates Akeoi and Ted, and also someone else whom I forget but will call Bert (but only twice and to whom I won't refer for another five paragraphs because I don't remember anything else about him or what he did), and after a quick briefing as to our plans for the day we head out of the harbor and toward our first stop, an area off the Wailea portion of the island called Makena Beach. Makena Beach is also referred to as "turtle town" because there are two large submerged lava tubes in the reef which are popular nesting and feeding areas for Hawaii's famous green sea turtles, also called honu (who knew? I knew) and turtle sightings are very common. We're also slated to snorkel at Molokini, but we can see a large number of boats at Molokini while Makena Beach is nearly deserted, and Captain Martin wants us to have the best possible snorkeling experience without the large crowds.</div>
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His plan pays off, as I do indeed see a honu swimming near the surface. It's a relatively large adult, maybe four feet (and definitely four flippers, but that's not the same thing), serenely munching on sea grasses or seaweed or plankton or turtle chow, or whatever the hell honu eat; possibly poi. I use my handy-dandy and technologically obsolete underwater camera to take several shots of my Chelonian chum, that herbivorous honu, before it drifts down to the sea floor. Honu breathe air but can sleep submerged; while awake, they normally surface to breathe for a few seconds, then sink below the waves for several minutes. One unfortunate way that honu can die is if they feel threatened -- whether by natural predators or harassment by overzealous tourists -- they submerge and can actually drown before they feel safe enough to surface to get another breath of air. Heeding the admonishment from Captain Martin's morning lecture, I make sure not to get too close as I take my pictures. Shortly after we return to the boat, several other tour boats arrive from Molokini, and the water becomes positively infested with loud and disruptive haole. This is our cue to leave, so after the crew takes roll call (no re-creation of <i>Open Water </i>for us, thankyou<i>very</i>much) we carefully weave our way through the swimmers and head over to Molokini.</div>
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A quick side note -- one of the reasons we like Trilogy Tours is that they purposefully underbook their tours -- the boat itself can fit 50-60 people, but there are maybe 30 customers on board, probably more like 25. This allows the crew to maintain very good control and care for the clientele, as opposed to some of the other boats out there... we see one double-decker boat with easily 75-90 swimmers, and almost no crew oversight. This can easily lead to animal endangerment, unsafe practices, and the like; there's a comment on tripadvisor that mentions the Trilogy crew having to assist with another boat's customer when they needed help and their tour boat didn't notice. We prefer our vacation adventures with a little less danger and a lot more enjoyment. We prefer Trilogy.</div>
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After another half hour or so of cruising, we arrive at Molokini just as the last other boat is leaving, essentially giving us the entire area to ourselves. There aren't any turtles here, but because of Molokini's crescent shape (it's a partly submerged volcano crater) the water is remarkably calm and clear. We head out again and wander through the water, looking at all of the different fish looking at us. Crewmate Ted beckons us over, where he gives me the opportunity to hold a red pencil urchin in my hand; Lucie also seems intrigued and interested until Ted says "you can actually feel all those tiny feet grabbing your skin", at which point she politely demurs and leaves the experience to me. The red urchin does indeed have a strong grasp, its hundreds of tiny tube feet creating a surprisingly powerful suction. I take a picture -- I'm a bit close, so unfortunately I find out later that it comes out pretty blurry -- and hand the urchin back to Ted, trying not to think too much about the mouth with its sharp pointy teeth so close to my skin. I hope my palm doesn't taste too much like poi.</div>
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As we swim back to the boat, we suddenly find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a school of black triggerfish, unafraid of the interlopers in their territory. We slowly make our way through the crowd -- there are maybe 30 to 40 fish surrounding us -- and eventually get back on board the boat. A light lunch of barbecued chicken, green salad, and taro rolls is provided, and we head back toward Maui. Captain Martin cuts the engines partway back to try and sail us back in, but the wind doesn't want to cooperate and he eventually takes us back to the harbor with the engines propelling us.</div>
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We exit the boat, thanking and handing out tips to Captain Martin and the mates, and even Bert (and there's the second time he's mentioned!), and get into our rental car. Including the attempts at sailing, the trip back to Maui from Molokini has taken almost two hours, and we feel like a quick bite is in order, so we head south along the coast toward Wailea. We stop well before then, in North Kihei, at Ululani's Shave Ice -- this is one of three different locations on Maui, and all of them are highly rated on every food review site. Lucie orders their "Ka'anapali" flavor combination of grape, lime, and cherry for us to share; and head next door to the Sugar Beach Bake Shop and order a "da kine pie", a tartlet-sized quiche with kimchi and grilled onions, with an asiago crust. The pie is delicious -- the right combination of sour, spicy, creamy, and sharp; the shave ice is one of the best examples of shave ice we've had -- the consistency they manage to create with their ice is lighter than newfallen snow, and the flavors are intense while somehow managing not to be overly sweet. As Lucie puts it, we're almost afraid to have any more shave ice for the rest of the trip because we know full well it won't measure up.</div>
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After the snack, we head back up north along the coastal highway to our hotel. We take a short break, then decide to get a little more exercise by walking along the beachwalk path to Whaler's Village. It's less than a half mile from our hotel, so it's a relatively quick walk, and the scenery along Maui's pale golden beachfront is always nothing less than beautiful. We get there and wander along the shops, skipping the more ridiculous ones (Louis Vuitton, Coach, a scrimshaw place), poking our heads briefly into others (Totally Hawaiian, PacSun), and spending some money in a few more -- we renew our appreciation for the shortbread cookie at Honolulu Cookie Company, Lucie gets a shirt or hat or something (in all honesty, I've forgotten exactly what -- possibly poi) at Crazy Shirts, and I buy a new pair of "slippahs" at the Flip Flop Shop. The pair I've been wearing all trip has been a pair I got at a bike swap meet, made from repurposed bicycle tires (rubber soles, inner tube toe thong, and knobby top straps from mountain bike tires; entertaining as all get out to me, but not much in the way of arch support and I'm a bit wary of their aquatic durability, something which becomes more important on the beaches of the islands), and I upgrade to a pair of Olu Kai sandals -- designed to double as water shoes, fast drying, and with very good support to fend off any plantar fasciitis issues. Plus, Hawaiian company and made in Hawai'i, so we're supporting the local economy in multiple ways.</div>
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Dusk has come and gone while we wander the shops, so we walk back to the hotel by the light of the stars (okay -- aided greatly by the lights along the pathway, but "by the light of the stars" sounds so much better) and have a seat at the outdoor stage for some more live music and hula dancing. I have a drink or three, Lucie has one or two of her own, we have a light dinner (Lucie opts for chicken strips and I have a small Hawaiian pizza, which I consider a light dinner because it's topped with Mozzarella cheese, which is light in color), and enjoy the show for a bit. Starting tomorrow, Ka'anapali Beach Hotel is hosting their annual "Hula o na Keiki" event, a showcase/competition of traditional hula by children ("o na keiki" in Hawaiian is "of our children" [o = of, na = plural possessive indicator, keiki = child]), a competition which attracts entrants from all over Hawai'i, the mainland, and even a few groups from Japan; so many of the hula dancers during our visit have been students from the halaus that will be competing; it's great to see such a graceful and mesmerizing art form being passed on.</div>
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After the band is finished for the night, we decide we are as well; we've got a flight to catch tomorrow for the Big Island and suitcases to pack before then, so we head upstairs for the evening.</div>
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--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-63591620571326506342013-11-26T16:02:00.000-08:002013-11-26T21:28:15.151-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 3: Beach BumsOne of the things we loved about our last trip to Maui was when we rented a cabana and spent several hours on the beach; just resting, enjoying the sun, maybe reading a magazine or two, and drinking a cold refreshing beverage. We definitely want to do that again this trip, but also want to supplement that with something new that we didn't do our last trip, so we decide that today will be a hotel-centric day.<br />
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We start the day early with some exercise -- Lucie goes for a walk/jog along the "beachwalk" path,<br />
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a 3 or 4 mile long paved path that connects several different hotels and the Whaler's Village high-end retail megaplex while I walk for a mile or so then do knee exercises that seem to help my mobility and range of motion. After we shower and get dressed for the day, we head out to the hotel's free breakfast buffet, where they give their temporary residents their fill of the standard fare (eggs, bread, bacon, Portuguese sausage, potatoes, juice, coffee) while talking about the commercial ventures available (snorkeling, Hana and Haleakala tours, etc.) with which they partner with other local companies. It's not timeshare-type stuff as far as predatory marketing is concerned, but it's also definitely not a free lunch (or breakfast) either. We do use the opportunity, though, to sign up for Kupanaha, the hotel's magic show, for that evening; and for a snorkeling trip for tomorrow with Trilogy Tours.<br />
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After the breakfast, Lucie and I sign up for some of Ka'anapali Beach Hotel's Hawaiian culture lessons -- we had taken the Hawaiian language lesson last trip, but have forgotten everything we learned. We also rent one of the cabanas on the beach, for later in the day. Our first class is in lei making; KBH's Cultural Expert and Guest Services Representative, Malihini (of whom we have incredibly fond memories from 2011), is giving the class. She greets us warmly, and we take our seats at a table covered in carnations. Using a special needle, we learn to string the flowers so they sit properly on the lei while Malihini tells us about the lei's importance and symbolism to the Hawaiian people. As is custom with married couples, I place the lei I made on Lucie's shoulders and she places the one she made on mine.<br />
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We're the only married couple in the class; in fact, I'm the only male in the class -- it's not golfing, and there are flowers involved. There are three other women in the class, and we of course hear a chorus of "awwww" as we place the leis on each other, and Malihini grabs my iPhone to take a picture. It's a nice moment, but unfortunately the picture is a little badly timed and makes me look like a technicolored troll trying to eat the face off a woman who just sucked on a lemon, so it's a picture that will NEVER see the light of day. <b>Ever.</b><br />
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Our next class is a repeat of the Hawaiian language class we took last time. As it turns out, Lucie and I are the only people who signed up, so we get personal instruction by Malihini in the pronunciation, grammar, historical significance, and meaning of Hawaiian diphthongs, words, and phrases. The two of us do have a *very* basic knowledge of some words, so we ask questions as needed, and voice insights when (occasionally) relevant. When we practice the sound pu'u, for example, I recognize this as the Hawaiian word for "hill", and ask if this is the case, mentioning the area of Pu'unene near Kahului. Every time we do something like this, Malihini seems both surprised that we actually know about the language and happy that we're actually trying to embrace the culture. This might just be her job, to encourage the appreciation of culture; but it really does come across as true warmth and generosity of spirit. Everything about Malihini is warm and generous of spirit; and it's not just us that <a href="http://gohawaii.about.com/od/mauilodging/a/kbhmaui_a.htm">believes this...</a><br />
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After the language class, we head out to the cabanas and get our relaxation on. Early in the afternoon, our final cultural lesson for the day, learning the hula, is scheduled; Lucie makes a difficult spur of the moment decision to stay on the beach and make sure the cabana doesn't get blown away in the (beautiful, sunny, and windless) weather, and I head up to the hotel lobby for my lesson. Because I'm the only participant for this one, Malihini recruits another hotel employee, Rayce, to teach me a hula kane, a dance performed by men. Taking my bad knee into account, he gives me some basic pointers (hula should be performed barefoot, as the dancers are grounding themselves to the earth as part of the performance) and walks me through Kalakaua He Inoa, a traditional dance in honor of Hawaiian King David Kalakaua (ruled 1874-1891), nicknamed the Merrie Monarch, known primarily for fighting to preserve Hawaiian culture and bringing back the art and tradition of hula, which had been banned for religious reasons in 1830 by Queen Ka'ahumanu, wife to the first King Kamehameha (she took over as regent upon his death in 1819.) There's an annual hula competition in Hilo on the Big Island named the Merrie Monarch Festival, named after Kalakaua. Rayce chants the song as I dance (a little slowly and unsteadily at times, if I must be honest), and shakes my hand after we're done.<br />
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I've looked at other performances of this hula on YouTube since my lesson, and it's very clear that I was taught an extremely basic version of this particular hula; however, seeing as how I'm an old fat haole with bad knees, it ain't bad for a 45-minute first-ever hula lesson. I also manage to forget most of the dance by the time I perform it for Lucie later that evening, but it's a fond memory nonetheless.<br />
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After the lesson, I return to the beach, where Lucie has been successfully defending her half of the cabana from UV rays, and relax next to her for the next couple of hours. The sun's heat is intense but wonderful and relaxing, the water is that amazingly clear blue that one just can't find off the California coast, the other tourists on the beach are for the most part quiet and far enough away to ignore, and the beverages we enjoy are ice cold and perfect -- Lucie makes a trip to the hotel's deli store to provide for us, since they don't offer catering service out to the beach. It's a very welcome time, just reclining and enjoying the moment; doing absolutely nothing at all is sometimes the thing that is best to do while on vacation.<br />
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Late afternoon, we begrudgingly leave the cabana for the day and head up to our room to get ready for dinner. We put our best vacation clothes (my shirt for the evening actually has buttons and isn't tie dyed) and go to the hotel's lobby. Just outside the showroom, they preview the show with some decent close-up magic; classic tricks like the Professor's Nightmare (three ropes of unequal lengths that turn into equal lengths and back again) and the Chinese Linking Rings are done to an appreciative audience before the doors open and we enter. There's a brief line as the family groups are posed for the obligatory souvenir photos (which we of course later buy) and we're offered our beverage of choice (we both go with a blue Hawaiian) before getting seated at our table. Lucie, knowing my geeky appreciation for magic, has gotten us seats at the front row of tables, and in a nice example of serendipity our table actually ends up being front row center.<br />
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We engage in small talk with the other people at our table -- a retired couple from Austin and a family of three (a twentysomething guy and his parents) from Portland -- as our dinner is brought out to us. Our appetizer of Kalua pork (for me) and grilled veggie (for Lucie) bruschetta is actually on a soft flatbread instead of traditional bruschetta, but tastes fine. A brief tableside performance of the Cups & Balls by the same close-up magician as earlier is fun -- one or two moves that I catch because I know where to look and when, but a finale move that completely takes me by surprise -- and is followed by our main course. Lucie chooses the tenderloin steak and shrimp over mashed potatoes; I opt for the red snapper with asparagus over seasoned rice; both are good (not necessarily outstanding, but certainly not bad at all.) During the main course and dessert (pina colada cheesecake for me, assorted fruit plate for Lucie), the main stage show of Jody Baran and his wife Kathleen and her breast implants (with lighting support by their son Robert and stage assistance by daughter Crystal) performs several intricate stage illusions, with dance routines from a local hula halau as interstitials. The dance numbers are a combination of the traditional Hawaiian and/or Polynesian dances, with one or two modern takes mixed in (one in particular is a heavily World War II - influenced routine with accompanying outfits, as a tribute to Hawaii's home to servicemen, and possibly an homage to the upcoming Veteran's Day holiday.) The tricks are, according to Jody Baran, inspired by various famous magicians that had visited the Hawaiian islands in the last century or two -- Houdini, the Great Nicola, Long Tack Sam, Raymondo (for some reason my favorite magician name) -- and for the most part very well done. There's humor, magic, dance, good food, and family. There's a lot to like about the show, and it's an enjoyable evening well spent.<br />
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After the show, we briefly consider stopping by the outside courtyard for additional drinks, but we've got an early day ahead of us -- one of the few planned outings for which we have a timetable -- so we head upstairs to our room for the night. We can, however, still hear the live band playing music from our hotel room, so we drift off to sleep with a Don Ho song as a serenade.--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-41477222596952286422013-11-25T11:57:00.001-08:002013-11-26T21:27:50.749-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 2: Hana Ho!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our second day on Maui, and we're off to experience something else we missed out on our last trip; namely, the Road to Hana. This is not a secret eighth wacky slapstick romcom movie starring Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, and Dorothy Lamour; but rather is the name of the highway along the eastern coast of Maui from the port/airport town of Kahului to Hāna. Many harrowing stories are told about the trip, which is only 52 miles in length but takes about two and a half hours of nonstop driving to complete due to the road, which is incredibly winding, narrow, and frankly outright terrifying were you to try and navigate the over 600 curves (most of which are sharp hairpin turns), 59 bridges (of which 46 are one-lane-wide bottlenecks with limited visibility due to the curving road), old infrastructure (most of the bridges date back a full century, to 1910), falling rocks (virtually untouched rain forest, cliffside roads, and rock makes for frequent rockslides -- coming around a sharp corner only to find several coconut-sized rocks in the middle of the road is not uncommon), flocks of wild nene in the road (just kidding; we all know they're not real) and various other road hazards. Because I want to appreciate the trip and not be a nervous wreck the entire time, we make arrangements to be driven there by a tour service instead.</div>
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So early in the morning, we head out the lobby of our hotel and meet up with Eric, from Temptation Tours. He was our driver last time when we did the Haleakala Sunrise tour, and is a welcome sight for the Hana drive. Also in the luxurious and comfortable limo van are a married couple from Long Island, Michael and Valerie. In a wonderful turn of fate, they turn out to be very entertaining folks, and Michael's sarcastic sense of humor is very similar to my own, so we have a great time chatting and joking as Eric drives us through the light rain. We cruise through <br />
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the artist colony town of Paia, refuge for surfers and hippies turned into artists selling their wares to tourists (this, as it turns out, is a very common occurrence in Hawai'i), and I take pictures of the amazingly clear and bright rainbow -- double rainbow, actually -- that we see over the ocean to the left side of our ride. At a clearing just outside of town, we find a wide shoulder on the side of the road, pull over, and get out for pictures. Along the way, we pass the popular (and expensive) restaurant Mama's Fish House, which is on our list of Things To Do In Maui but which will have to wait until our third visit to the island; we listen, entertained, as native Maui resident Eric discusses how Hawaiians eat ("we don't eat until we get full, we eat until we get tired. I call it 'Polynesian Paralysis'") and why everything on Maui is so expensive (there's only one large factory on Maui, for processing sugar cane into raw sugar; however, even that then has to be shipped to New York to be cleaned and packaged before coming back to Maui -- there are cows on Maui but no real dairy so a similar process is done with the milk and it's not uncommon to see milk selling in stores for as much as $10/gallon.) We also entertain ourselves with a fun and joke-filled discussion with East Coast visitors Michael and Valerie (I don't remember how the subject came up, but at some point I leave Michael momentarily helpless with mirth with a comment about YouTube videos of nenes twerking; Lucie accomplishes the same when we see roadwork and she says they're narrowing the roads for the tourists.) At various points along the way, Eric stops along the side of the road (shoulder space permitting [and in some cases even without shoulder space]) to show us such native or introduced flora as awapuhi (flowering Hawaiian ginger), bamboo (there's a bamboo forest alongside the highway where one can literally get lost for weeks, it's so large and dense), koa (a beautiful exotic wood, prized for its natural beauty and density, popular in handmade guitars and ukuleles but now a protected wood and therefore very expensive when available), and rainbow eucalyptus (a smooth-skinned tree, with vibrant pastel streaks, which really does look painted on.) <br />
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We make a quick stop in the tiny town of Haiku at the roadside stand Halfway to Hana (which is really only about a third of the way to Hana) and buy some of their crazy tasty banana bread and "King's Bars" (macadamia nuts, chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, coconut, and a graham cracker crust) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7FAgJGH-TrxfWBeD3JuMU3vIq61iAP2ZX7L6-ohsfA-07CVdWYt4pvkakHQXDRfuqnUbwdqPFXOx8rHAChyphenhyphenCJlT4CzoHmiWcUhSrRCKI9oQICUPEGd_ZrGf-PPl6e-FARBYAgKYHSOiU/s1600/image3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_981744="null" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7FAgJGH-TrxfWBeD3JuMU3vIq61iAP2ZX7L6-ohsfA-07CVdWYt4pvkakHQXDRfuqnUbwdqPFXOx8rHAChyphenhyphenCJlT4CzoHmiWcUhSrRCKI9oQICUPEGd_ZrGf-PPl6e-FARBYAgKYHSOiU/s320/image3.jpg" width="320" wta="true" /></a> and a "medium sized" shave ice that's the size of an adolescent German shepherd; we stop further along the way at the tiny town of Huelo, where we see a church built from stone and coral back in 1853, take pictures of some beautiful waves crashing on the lava rocks, and buy candied coconut and macadamia nut brittle from locals sheltering from the drizzle under canopies; and make additional stops at several waterfalls, bridges, aqueducts, and scenic points; and, approximately three hours after Kahului (including a fifteen to twenty minute stretch when we get caught up in a standstill traffic situation as construction equipment clears a small landslide ahead of us that has partially blocked the road), we end up in the town of Hana.<br />
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Hana, by itself, could be described as somewhat unimpressive... but it's never claimed to be anything otherwise. It's a small town, very removed from the rest of comparatively crowded and busy Maui; quiet and peaceful, in its quaint way... the experience of the Road to Hana is called "the Road to Hana" for a reason, instead of just "Hana". We have a picnic lunch under a pavilion by a black sand beach, with me and Lucie on one side of a picnic table and Michael and Valerie on the other, eating fresh pineapple, and dark chocolate brownies, and chicken breast sandwiches, and pasta salad, and mahimahi sandwiches, and bottled water and POG. It's a simple meal, with the rain continuing to come down outside the pavilion, and laughter and anecdotes as we share stories as we eat.<br />
From there, we stop briefly at Hana Tropicals, an orchid farm run by members of WWOOF, World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms, a coalition of eco-friendly organic farmers who -- I'm assuming -- grow trees primarily for hugging purposes. The orchids and proteas they grow are really beautiful, and vibrant; and just like with Temptation Tours' Haleakala Sunrise tour when we stopped at the protea farm, the women in our group receive a small bouquet of cut flowers as a welcome gift.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5m6sla9GyryCSAhTLFAZfl1OKWDk_zNagnERsPhey4fIowIV5Eskk5ODw3BCcFeIQKOMlRVWG5bS-5-IGG__CeqM2aIi_PnDOvN7doWc2YyWNrZNi76lf4SoATSgIoy4eDrXr-nliGChb/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_981744="null" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5m6sla9GyryCSAhTLFAZfl1OKWDk_zNagnERsPhey4fIowIV5Eskk5ODw3BCcFeIQKOMlRVWG5bS-5-IGG__CeqM2aIi_PnDOvN7doWc2YyWNrZNi76lf4SoATSgIoy4eDrXr-nliGChb/s320/image.jpg" width="320" wta="true" /></a>There's a brief delay along the road back as Eric stops our van to remove several large rocks that are littering the other side of the road and which are blocking a car's route; back in the van he also points out the fence of a home alongside the highway, where some of the fencing has collapsed and fallen partway down the hill -- "That wasn't like that when we drove past here on the way out," he comments -- and we continue down the road a bit to Wai'anapanapa State Park. We park the van and stretch our legs for a bit; Lucie and Valeria walk down the long and steep stairs to the black sand beach, while Michael (bad back) and I (bad knee) opt to stay up at the parking lot level. I wander around for a bit, take some pictures of a mongoose frolicking around the grassy picnic area and of the lava rock arches on the beach below, and once the two women come back up the stairs, I join them and the three of us take another trail -- a combination of ramp and stairs, but nothing too severe -- down to the freshwater pool nearby. There's quaint local folklore about the pool, about a princess Popoalaea who is hiding unsuccessfully from her husband, Chief Kakae, and who is killed by him after her hiding place is discovered; you know, all that touchy-feely stuff that you find in Harlequin novels.</div>
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We snooze a bit on the rest of the trip back -- it seems a little jaded to say, but at some point we almost get waterfalled out... the scenery is absolutely stunning, make no mistake; the tree canopy is a bright and vibrant green, the flowers range from blazing crimson to a pastel, almost gossamer, lavender to what is almost a screamingly bright hunter orange, and the ocean is a frothy combination of white crashing waves and a variety of blues and aquas. Even the fact that the skies are a near-constant gray can't dull the artist's dream palette of colors that surround us, or the amazing natural beauty of foliage, waterfalls, wildlife, and earthy green scents; it's almost a sensory overload, but a wonderful one.<br />
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One last stop before Kahului, where we stop and watch the waves at Pe'ahi. Also known by the name Jaws, Pe'ahi is the Hawaiian word for wave, although it's actually kind of a play on words -- the word for oceanic waves is nalu, while pe'ahi is the waving or fanning of one's hands, and chosen as the name for the surfing mecca even though Pe'ahi is actually the ancient name of a different, inland location not far away. The surfers are packed into this area, the waves are impressive -- not as huge as the 60-foot waves that can appear during the winter months, but still taller than the surfers riding them -- and the outhouses by the parking lot are horrible. I count myself lucky that I didn't have to avail myself of them, but Lucie did and she says she will be forever grateful to our personal trainer for the strong quad muscles she had to employ to avoid having to actually come in contact with any of the interior other than the floor. Enough of that, though -- icky icky.<br />
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We cruise back across the island, along the Honoapi'ilani Highway that runs along the western coast of Maui up to Ka'anapali where Eric drops us back at the hotel. We rest for an hour or so, then wander down to the hotel's Tiki Terrace outdoor restaurant for dinner. It's still drizzling on and off, so we sit under the covered area and enjoy dinner while the live band plays Hawaiian music. We share an appetizer of coconut shrimp, a Hawaiian pupu mainstay; Lucie has a tenderloin steak and rice pilaf, and I opt for one of the daily specials, the braised lamb shank. It's falling-apart tender, flavorful and moist, with a garlic, ginger, anise, and shiitake mushroom sauce, a dollop of white truffle oil on top, and a vegetable medley bed of bok choy, carrots, and sweet Maui onions. It's delicious, robust and could only be topped by an even better dessert, this is managed with their "banana caramel lava eruption", with caramelized banana sliced, mixed with toasted macadamia nuts, surrounding a chocolate lava cake, topped with coconut ice cream, and drizzled with an intense caramel sauce. It's fantastic. Not at all diet friendly, but definitely fantastic.<br />
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I manage to finish the dessert, but am too full of sugars afterwards to have any fruity tropical drinks tonight, so we sit and listen to the music for a bit longer before heading back to our room for the night.</div>
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.--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-38447344190209396032013-11-20T15:23:00.000-08:002013-11-20T15:31:02.264-08:00Hawai'i One-3, Day 1: The Day We Get Re-Maui'edAloha!<br>
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Our new Hawaiian vacation begins, as it has every time thus far, with a chauffeured ride from our apartment to the airport. The ride isn't a stretch limo (as it was in 2009 upon our return) or a town car (as it has been every other time), but a Cadillac Escalade, driven by Demetrius (instead of Dean, who has been our driver on every other occasion.)<div><br>
While the ride isn't uncomfortable or unnerving in any way, it's not the experience to which we've become accustomed. Instead of engaging and entertaining conversation with our driver, we sit quietly in the back seat as Demetrius plays KBLX on the radio; other than introducing himself to me when he picks us up, I honestly don't believe Demetrius says more than a dozen words to us during the trip, and I don't recall him saying anything to Lucie -- not even an introduction. We listen to the Steve Harvey morning show, which today at least consists of equal parts religious proselytization and bathroom humor "morning zoo" schtick, until we get to Oakland Airport. We wait patiently for a while as Demetrius works on charging my credit card for the trip, before Lucie eventually pulls our luggage out of the vehicle herself so we don't end up late for the flight.<div><br>
A mercifully short trip through the TSA checkpoint and brief wait at the gate later, and we're on our flight. Alaskan Airlines is our airline of choice for the trip out; their breakfast for their first class passengers (which we are) consists of fresh fruit and a blueberry Danish, and their take on a loco moco -- a junior ground beef patty on rice, covered in a mushroom gravy, with a bit of scrambled eggs alongside. <br>
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I do understand the compromises that have to be made -- scrambled eggs reheat much better than eggs fried over easy or sunny side up, which is how *real* loco mocos are made -- but unfortunately this only serves to create a burning need for real Hawaiian mix plate goodness. I spend part of the time watching Hugh Jackman's abs playing "The Wolverine" on the provided in-flight entertainment tablet, followed by my getting back into the Hawaiian frame of mind by watching Arial America's Hawai'i episode in high definition on my own iPad.</div><div><br>
Once we land on Maui, Lucie guards our luggage while I pick up our rental car at Avis. They're out of the full-size car (such as Impala or Taurus) that I had reserved, so they set me up with a Lincoln town car. This is *WAY* more car than I feel comfortable with, but I'm game to give it a try -- this is Hawai'i, and we're on vacation, so I don't plan on sweating the small things. (Yes, the Lincoln town car is a big thing, not a small thing. Believe me, I know.)</div><div><br>
From the airport, we head mauka (inland or uphill; "mauka" is Hawaiian for "sucking gas") to the Ali'i Kula Lavender Farm, which was our first stop last trip as well. This time I'm prepared for the winding and narrow road from the highway to the farm entrance, and for the even narrower and windier road from the farm entrance to the parking lot... but what I'm not prepared for is just how immense the Lincoln feels trying to navigate the roads. We eat a very light snack (their lavender scones are still outstanding, though because the toaster oven is out of order they're room temp instead of warm and tasty; the lavender and honey iced green tea is sweet and refreshing) and make our first major financial hit of the vacation in the gift shop, buying various lavender-scented or -flavored or -themed items for us and our friends and family. Once back in the car, I spend about half an hour on the phone (we actually get service out here, which believe me is NOT always a given in upcountry Hawai'i) with Avis before heading back to the rental car location at Maui's Kahului airport (call sign OGG, after Hawaiian Airlines-affiliated aviation pioneer Bertram Hogg [for some reason he decided against HOG]) where I successfully swap out the Lincoln town car with a Chrysler 300. The 300 is still larger than a Taurus or Impala, but a vehicle in which I feel much more comfortable behind the wheel; I drove a 300 during our visit to O'ahu four years ago and had no issues.<br>
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Now in our new, slightly less Brobdingnagian ride, we head out for lunch. Lucie's done some reading around and suggests the local favorite Da Kitchen. They appeared in an episode of Bizarre Food for their deep fried Spam musubi appetizer, so we order that in addition to our entrees -- the beef teriyaki and chicken katsu combination plate for Lucie, and the "Notorious B.I.G. Moco" for me. That particular meal consists of, according to their menu, a "homemade burger steak topped with chili, Mexican cheese, two eggs, mushrooms and onions, served with Spam, bacon, Portuguese sausage, all over our homemade local style fried rice." It must also be noted that their fried rice has copious amounts of Spam, bacon, and Portuguese sausage -- suffice it to say that this is not exactly diet-friendly eats. It is, however, amazingly delicious; Lucie also says that her beef teriyaki is the best teriyaki she's ever had. This one-two gastronomical punch of outstanding tastes and gargantuan portions is a great way to start our trip to Hawai'i, even though it does sort of threaten to put both of us into a happy food coma.<br>
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After groggily making our way to the car (which, I'm almost certain, ends up sitting several inches lower than it did before our meal), we make our way across the island to the Ka'anapali Beach Hotel where we check in. We unpack, and enjoy the air conditioning for a few minutes before heading out to the adjoining beach where we walk down to Black Rock and watch the sunset torch lighting ceremony. We'd missed this the last time we were on Maui (my knee wasn't exactly meander-friendly back then [not that it's all that much better now -- it's actually a bit worse -- but I'm more able to manage the walk with the added weight loss and exercise regimen]), and since we're sort of calling this part of the trip Maui 2.0, we wanted to do the things we didn't get to do two years ago.<br>
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Torches lit, guy with torch having successfully dived off the cliff into the ocean, we slowly make our way back to our hotel, stopping along the way to take advantage of one of those "stick your head through the hole in the wall for wacky fun picture time" walls for some wacky fun picture time before relaxing at Ka'anapali Beach Hotel's outside Tiki Bar area where we have some cold tropical drinks and listen to the live band play Hawaiian and not-so-Hawaiian selections. Lucie has a lava flow and a Malibu and Coke; I opt for the "Ka'anapali Cooler" (light rum, vodka, sweet & sour, pineapple and orange juices, and a top skin of blackberry & cherry brandy) and a souvenir version of a tropical itch (which comes with a bamboo back scratcher as a swizzle stick.) Sated, satisfied, and a pleasant combination of Hawaiian music and a slight alcohol buzz in our ear holes, we eventually head upstairs and say aloha ahiahi ("goodnight" in Hawaiian; also "hello fishfish") to our first day back in Hawai'i.<br>
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.</div></div>--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-54611359799829161042013-09-03T22:32:00.000-07:002013-09-03T23:37:11.458-07:001 Diet-Free Day, at the Bacon Festival of AmericaSo yeah -- we've been walking and/or jogging, and biking, and dieting, and seeing a personal trainer, and getting into our apartment complex's Pool of Questionable Cleanliness for pool exercises, and doing yoga and kettle bell routines and chair exercises in our living room for a while now... but I remember hearing somewhere (probably on the Internet, maybe even in this very paragraph) that going off the regimen every once in a while is a good thing to do.<br />
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And as it so happens, the Saturday before Labor Day is International Bacon Day. And as it so happens, food truck organizer Moveable Feast is putting on the entertainingly over-the-top named "San Jose Bacon Festival of America" on that same day. And as it so happens, our planned anniversary dinner from the 26th needed to be postponed... and this sounds like a nice proxy for an anniversary night out. A fatty, salty proxy. Mmmm, proxy.<br />
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We had ordered tickets a while back, when the event was first announced, and got the tickets for half price (score!), so the parking fee at the flea market is offset by the savings and is essentially free. Free of cost, at least -- there's a highly vocal and self-righteous group of protestors clustered at the entrance of the parking lot, saying that we're all horrible people for encouraging the wholesale slaughter of domesticated swine for consumption purposes; so we do have to pay with our immortal souls, I guess... but hey, it's for bacon, so we're good.<br />
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We find a parking space surprisingly close to the entrance and make our way into the night market area of the flea market (passing a few other, closer empty parking spaces along the way, of course, but that's fine.) The Bacon Festival consists of 28 different food trucks, parked along the perimeter of the marketplace; with assorted craft vendors off to one side. We arrive shortly before noon (original plan was to arrive around 11:00 to 11:30, but we didn't account for the half hour it took us to get into the parking lot -- this place is BUSY) and start to look at the various trucks to check out our options.<br />
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(Okay, vertically aligned sidebar here -- if you've never done a food truck event, there are several things to keep in mind: line length, food delivery speed, truck popularity, and cost; you need to make judgment calls as to what food you want based on these attributes. If you're hungry, go for the short lines to get something in hand, and feel free to eat said food while you're in line for the truck you really want that has a long wait. If the food vendor takes forever to make their food, even a short line will take longer than a longer line at a fast-preparation truck. For the Bacon Festival, the cost isn't a huge deal -- the organizers have a rule that for this festival no dishes can cost more than $5, and there's a good deal of food that actually costs less than that. This is all fairly obvious strategy, of course, but you'd be surprised at how many people complain about picking the most popular truck with the longest line for their first dish, and then complain about the event afterward because they were there for three hours and were only able to visit three trucks, the last one of which is an overcrowded ice cream vendor on a hot day. Simple enough? Good -- back to the narrative.)<br />
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The first food truck at which we stop is Takoz Mod Mex a tacos truck that actually specializes in tacos; their standard beef, chicken, and al pastor tacos -- sorry, "TaKoz" -- just have bacon bits on top as their slight nod to the theme of the day, but their other two food options do sound porkier and we opt for their "Street Dog", a bacon wrapped hot dog nestled in a toasted telera roll, with an arugula greens mix on top, and drizzled with avocado sauce and chipotle sriracha aioli, then sprinkled with cilantro. The hot dog is cooked perfectly, and the slight bite of the sriracha aioli works very well with the avocado sauce as a flavor counterbalance. There's a little bit too much bread in the bun-to-dog ratio for me, but the telera roll is toasted just right so it's crispy and has a nice crunch without being dry. Lucie absolutely loves this dish, and at the end of the day still says this is her favorite.<br />
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Our next stop is a Korean food truck called Seoul Bitez (okay, what's with the names of some of these trucks? Was there a sale on truck paint jobs where you get discounts for the letters lower down on the letter frequency list? Should I expect a truck named Jaxkqy'zz to show up one of these days?) that has a few Mexican - Korean fusion dishes listed. We go with their variant on the traditional Korean spicy pork, which is a spicy pork belly taco. The thick cut slabs of pork belly are tender and a good ratio of meat to fat, smothered in a zesty bulgogi sauce. The corn tortillas are soft without falling apart, the roamine lettuce and onion are sliced small enough to accompany the protein well without being a distraction, and the spicy pork belly is superb. Lucie finishes her taco, and after about half of mine I just pull out the chunks of bacon and focus on those -- it's not that the taco is bad at all, but I feel the need to pace myself.<br />
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The next truck on our list is one we've eaten from before, the purveyor of Chinese soul food known as Soulnese. The line for Soulnese is pretty long -- it's one of the more popular trucks at every event -- so we divide our forces and Lucie stays in line while I find another vendor.<br />
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The line for Grilled Cheese Bandits is crazy long so I rule them out immediately, which is too bad; a grilled cheese with bacon is ALWAYS a good thing, and I've been wanting to try them out for a while now. I make do with Louisiana Territory, a Cajun themed truck, and get their garlic bacon fries for us to share while we're waiting in the Soulnese line. Unfortunately, they seem to have rushed their food to get it out, as the fries are undercooked, limp, and greasy. The bacon pieces are cooked well, but they're added more as an afterthought -- a scant pinch or two tossed on the fries before handing them out the truck window -- than given a starring role. I pick out the new french fries that are the least undercooked, we eat the bacon pieces (because, you know, bacon) and I discard the rest. It's a little wasteful, but we don't want to eat something disappointing just because we bought it.<br />
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Soon enough, we arrive at the ordering window for Soulnese, and place our order. They don't have their awesome Seoul Stix (skewers of shrimp wrapped around hot link slices) today, which is a shame; but it doesn't really work with the bacon theme so it's understandable. They do have a good selection otherwise, though, so we choose bacon mac'n rolls, bacon garlic noodles, and bacon wrapped corn dogs. The bacon mac'n rolls are their usual mac'n rolls (macaroni and cheese in a deep fried egg roll) with bacon added; however, unlike Takoz Mod Mex's seemingly afterthought action of "let's toss bacon bits on our usual fare", the bacon mac'n rolls have the bacon mixed in with the macaroni and cheese before being rolled up, and bacon and macaroni and cheese are ALWAYS a great combination; these are certainly no exception. Crispy wrapper, creamy and salty filling -- not too dry but not so moist that it leaks or drips when you eat it -- these are fantastic. I love their standard mac'n rolls, but I love these suckers to eleven. The bacon garlic noodles are slightly underwhelming -- the taste is okay but they're cold and a little dry -- and the bacon wrapped corn dogs make up for that. We love corn dogs, and we love bacon, and we really, really love the two together. It's the Reese's Peanut Butter cup of the savory deep fried food world.</div>
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After Soulnese, we wander for a bit through the craft vendors and ooh and ah over the San Jose-centric designs on the shirts (I'm very entertained by the "Fin City" shirts in Sharks colors, but of course they don't come in my size) and pick up a pair of bright red knee socks emblazoned with "BACON" on the sides for Lucie. We also briefly look at the other trucks in the area, but the line for Grilled Cheese Bandits is even longer than before, and none of the other items at Louisiana Territory seem appetizing after their bacon garlic fries, so we head back toward the other side of the marketplace.<br />
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We stop along the way at Chutney Mary's, who offer a wide variety of dishes covering many different ethnicities and influences. Today, the truck is very definitely NOT doing their usual http://photos.mercurynews.com/2013/08/08/chutney-marys-food-truck-serves-up-halal-dishes-in-the-south-bay/ shtick of serving halal food -- they're all about the bacon. We get a bowl of the bacon and beer gumbo with andouille sausage and chicken, which is a delicious concoction with densely savory flavors and large chunks of sausage and chicken, sweet onion, and of course bacon. We also buy one of their salted caramel apples covered with bacon and chocolate chips for eating when we get home; the combination proves to be surprisingly good... the sweetness of the chocolate and saltiness of the bacon, reinforced on both fronts by the salted caramel, added to the refrigerated crisp tartness of the apple -- it's a strange combination of flavors on the surface, but the result is much deeper than you'd think. In fact, this ends up being tied with the Soulnese bacon mac'n rolls for my favorite dish of the day.<br />
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We also buy a cup of the bacon lemonade, which is just what it sounds like -- lemonade with bacon pieces submerged in it like porky jetsam. The taste actually isn't bad, but the glossy, iridescent veneer of bacon fat on top is a little off-putting, and we discard the drink when we're about two thirds of the way through it so we avoid the top layer. If I'm going to drink bacon fat, it'll be fresh from the pan after frying the bacon (thought cooled down a bit), and it'll be in a shot glass. Actually, that doesn't sound half bad.<br />
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(EDITOR'S NOTE: No, it sounds *all* bad. Don't do it. Only a sadistic cardiologist looking to put kids through college would advocate this, and even then it'd be strictly off the records to avoid legal ramifications.)<br />
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Our next stop is at Taqueria Angelica's, where we get a churro (no bacon involved, but it's a taco truck and they have churros, and it's our moral obligation to provide positive reinforcement to churro distributors) and a bacon quesadilla. I have most of the quesadilla -- it's cheese, after all, so Lucie limits her lactose intake -- and it's a simple yet effective delivery system for the bacon, much like what I imagine Grilled Cheese Bandits is providing on the other side of the Bacon Festival, only in a flour tortilla and with a much smaller line. It's got monterey jack cheese and bacon, in a flour tortilla with a drizzle of crema decorating the top, and it comes topped with chopped lettuce and tomato that I ignore because I'm not here celebrating the Healthy Food Accompaniment Festival. We wash that down with a bottle of Coke (Mexican Coke, made with real sugar and not high fructose corn syrup) and decide it's about time for dessert.<br />
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There are a few different vendors providing dessert (other than Chutney Mary's caramel apples), but the lines at both Fairycakes and Treatbot are prohibitively long and the food options at Rocko's Chocolate Tacos sounds good so we decide to give them a go. This turns out to be both good and bad -- the bad part being that the line, although shorter, moves excruciatingly slowly due to the food preparation process: the customer orders a waffle cone or other frozen concoction which is then hand-dipped in one of the chocolate dipping sauces available, then dunked briefly into liquid nitrogen before delivery to the customer. This, plus the two facts that the customers are ordering multiple items and that there's only one person making them with one canister of liquid nitrogen, makes for very slow throughput. However, the good part of the equation is that the food is very good and worth the wait. Lucie has a frozen banana dipped in dark chocolate with a generous amount of bacon rolled into the chocolate; it's another one of those seemingly strange but very tasty flavor combinations which we've been experiencing today on this day of smoked cured meat goodness. This is her second favorite food item, just after the Street Dog from Takoz Mod Mex. My food choice is a salted caramel ice cream in a waffle cone, also dipped in dark chocolate, and also with bacon mixed in. Salted caramel is one of the biggest trends in the foodie scene right now, but it's a very delicious trend so I'm okay jumping on the bandwagon -- the caramel flavor in the ice cream is a little drowned out by the dark chocolate and bacon, but it's refreshingly cold on this hot day, and even without a strong salted caramel bass beat the lead guitar of bacon and rhythm guitar of dark chocolate crank out a great tune. I don't know what the drums would be, as I didn't think the metaphor fully through... let's say it's a jazz trio instead, and the upright bass and drums carry the tune even without the sax for a while. That actually works, too. Niiiice.</div>
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That having been our dessert, we decide to get one more bacon item for the road (to go along with the apple from Chutney Mary's), and Lucie's request is another Street Dog from Takoz Mod Mex. Unfortunately, I get my food trucks (did I mention just how many there are here? Most Moveable Feast events are six or seven trucks, so tripling the number is a little jarring) mixed up with my food names and we end up at the Road Dogs truck instead. In my defense -- Street Dog, Road Dogs... understandable, right? Right?<br />
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By the time I realize my mistake (read: check the notes app on my iPhone where I'm trying to keep track of everything we've been snarfing down) we're at the front of the line so we shrug and order from them anyway -- we stood in line already; might as well get something out of it. Ordering off the hot dog slider menu, Lucie goes for their Classic sliders and I go for the Cheesy Bacon sliders; I wait in line for them and get them packaged to eat at home while Lucie heads off to wait in line at Takoz Mod Mex for another Street Dog. The Classic is a cute set of beef dogs with bacon, homemade relish, brown mustard, and ketchup; and the Cheesy Bacon is a purist's idea of a bacon cheese dog -- two short beef dogs smothered in cheese sauce and a large mound of bacon pieces. These are sliders so it's technically a full size hot dog cut into two smaller pieces (or maybe a foot-long hot dog cut into three pieces for cost savings -- the pieces are cooked separately judging by the ends but they don't last long enough to take a really close look), but they're both very good and we end up eating what we ordered before belatedly realizing we could have split our choices and had some of each. That's actually okay, though, since Lucie says her Classic is very nicely made and is mighty tasty (just not at a Street Dog level), but I probably wouldn't have enjoyed it as much since I'm not much of a sweet relish person. Likewise, my Cheesy Bacon slider is pure gooey cheddary salty awesome in a soft sweet roll, but the cheese sauce wouldn't have been a big favorite with Lucie.<br />
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By the time the Road Dogs order is ready and packaged and I get over to Lucie, she's almost at the front of the line at Takoz Mod Mex, so the timing for waiting in line is almost perfect. Unfortunately, the timing for ordering food is not perfect, because they're out of the bacon wrapped hot dogs and have stopped selling Street Dogs for the day. Curses! We make do with a BLT Torta (Sorry, "TorTa", because in addition to an infrequent-letter discount I believe they also had some sort of deal on capital letterz), and also bring that home to enjoy once we're on a couch and not standing in direct sunlight. The TorTa is a BLT on a toasted telera roll, with the same avocado sauce and chipotle sriracha aioli that came on the Street Dog. The roll is still very nicely toasted, and the sauces are still a nice kick in the taste buds, but the bacon to bread ratio is way off due to the telera roll's thickness. It's still a decent sandwich, but the bacon is almost lost, which is a shame. Maybe it's just not enough protein because it's early afternoon and some trucks are already running out of bacon (the event organizer says that there are 5,000 more attendees than expected) so they feel the need to ration; maybe they just didn't think about the bread's size and figured that what would be a small-but-acceptable amount of bacon for two slices of sourdough bread would also be acceptable for a telera roll; maybe the guys at Takoz Mod Mex originally had tons of bacon in the sandwich originally but their cost would have been over the $5 maximum allowed price, so Takoz Mod Mex had to KompRomyZz; maybe their Street Dog was so darn delicious that anything else naturally pales in comparison... who knows? At least their Street Dog was freakin' awesome.<br />
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So maybe it wasn't exactly dinner at a four-star restaurant, or a private dinner at an oceanside gazebo with a personal musician and private waiter and hostess, but it was -- in my humble opinion, at any rate -- a very nice anniversary meal, on a beautiful day, with the woman I love, fairly close to the 12th anniversary of the day she said "I do."<br />
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And that makes it wonderful.<br />
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--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-70039031322214737702013-08-22T16:50:00.001-07:002013-08-23T22:48:31.726-07:0025K (plus 13 Miles) So Far In Summer<div>So since my last blog entry (which was admittedly quite a while ago), Lucie and I have been taking part in several activities that, if you had suggested to us we'd be doing a couple of years ago, we'd have laughed at you for even suggesting; some of which were done with my sister joining us (or rather, joining me; since this allows Lucie to jog instead of feeling like she has to limit herself by walking with her slow and gimpy husband.)<br />
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</div><div></div><div>I *think* that sentence makes sense; lots of different tenses, though, so grammar might very well be way off. Then again, this is a blog, so grammar don't matter none (or speling neither.)</div><div></div><div><br />
Anyway, since our first foray into doing 5Ks, we've taken part in quite a few events; let's relive them in order:</div><div></div><div><b><br />
</b> <b>5/18: The Color Run, benefitting the American Diabetes Association</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>Like a few other races, this one started at the soon-to-be-renamed HP Pavilion in downtown San Jose. The Color Run is actually a for-profit business, although they do make charitable donations to local organizations; in the San Jose event, they donated to the American Diabetes Organization. In the Color Run, participants start off wearing white or light colored clothing; at each kilometer marker is a "color station", where race volunteers fling brightly colored powders at the runners as they pass. In the pictures I took, our clothing eventually goes from white, to white and pink, to white and pink and yellow, then adding orange, then blue, then purple. At the end of the race is essentially a big rave, with loud dance music and hundreds if not thousands of dyed people jumping and dancing and -- in ten-minute intervals -- throwing clouds of bright powders into the air to color the crowd around them. It's fun, but Lucie and I both feel WAY too old (and antisocial) to rave along with the young kids, so we throw our included-with-the-race-packet bags of colored powder at each other and some people nearby, then head back home.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The Color Run was fun but felt a little too "young" for us; we're glad we did it and would recommend it to other people wanting to have a fun time, but will probably pass next year and leave it to younger and more festive participants. I <i>did</i> enjoy getting a custom dye job on my clothes, though.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</b> <b>6/2: The Race for Literacy on behalf of the San Jose Public Library, benefitting the India Literacy Project</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>A race suggested by and done with my sister, the Race for Literacy took place at Vasona Park. We join the SJPL race team, and get spiffy race shirts customized with the team name. For this race, the three of us walk together for the first five minutes as Lucie warms up, then she jogs ahead while my sister and I walk and keep each other company. Laura and I chat as we walk the crowded path along the lake, pause for a bit as my bad knee gets aggravated when I walk uphill without being careful enough, and meet up with Lucie at the finish line, where she completed the race about 10-15 minutes before we do.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The paths at Vasona Park are a little narrow for a big crowded event like this, and the volunteers seem a little subdued rather than supportive; but it's for a good cause, it's a nice day, and the three of us enjoy a nice breakfast at The Breakfast Place afterward... all in all, this makes for a very enjoyable day.</div><div><br />
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</div><div></div><div><b>6/29: USO Salutes Our Heroes, benefitting the USO</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>Another race starting at the still-named-this-but-soon-to-be-renamed,-honest HP Pavilion, this is the first in a hopefully long run of annual events to support the USO. Laura joins us for this event as well. Other than the three of us, the turnout for this event is unfortunately pretty small -- a combination, we suspect, of this being an inaugural event and inadequate word-of-mouth and marketing -- but the support staff (as should be expected of the USO) is outstanding; numerous, and very well organized, and vocally supportive of both the event and the participants. Plus, S. J. Sharkie shows up, as well as Darth Vader, an Imperial Stormtrooper, an Imperial Scout Trooper (and yes, I recognized the difference between the two) and a generic Imperial commander; so total geek bonus points.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The timing on the event is a little unfortunate, as San Jose is going through its annual mini heat wave (as hot as the Bay Area gets, at any rate), so Laura and I sweat profusely as we walk the route along the Guadalupe Creek Trail (and Lucie sweats more as she does her walk/jog combination ["wogging", she calls it]) but we manage to survive the ordeal. Despite the heat, though, we consider this a great event -- thanks in no small part to the USO volunteers and staff -- and we really hope they continue this event as an annual thing.</div><div><br />
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</div><div></div><div><b>7/13: Rotary Run at the Fig, benefitting the Rotary Club of Fresno</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>Laura decides to be selfish and stay in San Jose with our mom who's visiting from New Mexico instead of driving the four hours down to Fresno just for this event, but whatever. Instead, Lucie and I head down to Fresno to take part in a race on her birthday; Lucie takes part in the 5K and I do the 2-mile walk (as my bad knee is currently dictating my exercise regimen.) Because this is in Fresno, during the summer, the race begins at 6:30 in the morning... so we do show up at the Fig Garden in Fresno a few seconds late (as in literally, Lucie starts the 5K about 10 seconds after the rest of the crowd.) </div><div><br />
</div><div>The route is questionable, as it winds its way through the nearby neighborhoods; and the end point of the race is not as racer-friendly as we'd like (I get a nice picture of the delivery truck after it tries to go under the balloon arch shortly after the 2-mile walk is over and gets stuck); and even though we start way freaking early it's still scorchingly hot by the time we finish... It's not our shiniest race day moment, but Lucie gets an Achievement Unlocked! for her goal of running a 5K on her birthday. Plus, I get a cool shot of me, my awesome Fresno-based nephew (also wearing some tie dye), and the mascot of frozen yogurt joint Yodigity in all of our bright and festive colors. So, <i>that</i>'s pretty sweet.</div><div><br />
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</div><div><b>7/21: West Valley Dash of Hope, benefitting West Valley Community Services</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>Another 5K at Vasona Park, and another event with my sister. Although this takes place in the same park, the route itself is different, with more changes in elevation and -- for at least part of the race -- wider paths, so it definitely comes across as less crowded, which is nice. It's also a lot more competitive in feel, which isn't as nice because Laura and I lag well behind almost everyone and come in very close to last since we're probably the only ones walking the course instead of running (or wogging.) We do get a nice photo of us jogging the last couple hundred feet or so toward the finish line as the crowd of runners who finished ahead of us cheer us on, which is nice; and Lucie gets a personal best time for wogging the route. It's still a warm day, but Vasona has much better shade than the Guadalupe Creek Trail or suburban Fresno, so we're not as affected. There's an uphill stretch near the end that goes over some rocky dirt, though, and my knee doesn't take it very well -- it's throbbing a bit as we finish the race (and jogging on it for that last section probably didn't help too much either, to be sure) but it's still a nice race and a good time.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Also some good support at this event, with volunteers handing out bagels, bananas, and drinks; and a Jamba Juice tent selling their tasty fruit smoothies (with proceeds going toward West Valley Community Services, the charity of the day.) If my knee gets better (or replaced), we're going to do this one again next year. Good race, good cause, and good location.</div><div><br />
</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVtrsgrUK5YOsNWY5ZP3c5917jvemnytFI00IhqNMPdCnk6tz2r9WfjbOwe-pSZgVjJwf6413NaN0rx4Y-asG7K6MMLloGOq2k_E3fO42HF5LOQ9fGyM-ftd0V7j1-x3Zs3CESg78HiME/s640/blogger-image--1638024412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVtrsgrUK5YOsNWY5ZP3c5917jvemnytFI00IhqNMPdCnk6tz2r9WfjbOwe-pSZgVjJwf6413NaN0rx4Y-asG7K6MMLloGOq2k_E3fO42HF5LOQ9fGyM-ftd0V7j1-x3Zs3CESg78HiME/s640/blogger-image--1638024412.jpg" /></a></div><br />
</div><div></div><div><b>7/27: Wipeout Cancer Sports Day for Charity</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>This is another first-year event, started by a woman who was diagnosed with colon cancer after having won on the TV show Wipeout and taken part in American Ninja Warrior on two different seasons; the charity she created for cancer research is named for her experience on the show. Taking place at the Campbell Community Center, the day consists of a children's obstacle course, adult volleyball tournament, and bicycle rides; all of which are her favorite sports pastimes. Lucie and I opt for the 13-mile family fun ride rather than the 30-mile or 60-mile competitive rides because we're sane people.</div><div><br />
</div><div>From the Campbell Community Center, we ride through downtown Campbell to the Los Gatos Creek trail, then head south; following the trail through Los Gatos Creek Park (where Lucie and I had participated in Kaiser's "Personal Best" fitness program earlier in the year), then further south through Vasona Park (following, in part, the same trails we'd taken in both of our 5K events [we seem to be doing an awful lot more physical activities than we have <i>ever</i> done, we reflect as we ride]) and all the way into Los Gatos, where we rest for a few minutes before heading back along the same path.</div><div><br />
</div><div>This ends up being about a 13.5 mile round trip bike ride... or at least, it <i>would</i> have been if I didn't get a flat tire and walk my bike for about half a mile before someone else in our group stops and helps me with some emergency roadside assistance. I never did get the guy's name, but probably made him a little uncomfortable with how profusely I was thanking him as he popped off my rear wheel, found the root cause which had been giving me issues for the last couple of weeks (the bike shop in Fresno had apparently damaged my rim when they put in heavy-duty tubes, creating a sharp chunk of aluminum right next to the valve stem, which chewed its way through three different inner tubes before it was discovered -- gonna have to give them a negative review on Yelp about that, methinks), replaced the bad tube (which was actually missing the valve stem, as it had blown completely off [lost a brand-spankin'-new pink ribbon stem cap along with it, too]), used my emergency CO2 inflator, and had me back up and running (technically pedaling, I suppose) in just a couple of minutes. Whoever you are, thanks again.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Anyway, we get back to the Campbell Community Center, partake briefly of the lunch offered (High Tech Burrito, out of Los Gatos), and get my bike fixed at Mike's Bikes before heading home. Other than the frustrating flat tire incident -- this being the third flat tire in as many rides, I was incredibly tempted to throw my bike into the creek in a fit of impulsive rage -- this was a good day. Our first biking event, my newish bike being fixed (haven't had a flat tire since, despite over 50 miles ridden, which is a good sign), and some more exercise in the sun. And a tasty burrito, too.</div><div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBKJrNTJfxb72dwA83N4l7nPQd2RZJx4VNBPPScRdoy3n9-KRv7-1PIyK2XgTt7bQaAMgrfobMgEkhyPDgHwgbh0jxkRk7pXtRUTwFRGio9oTvtha2q7NiG8-RWf7k8pJ1MFVXbnIzZAW/s1600/blogger-image--1453238460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBKJrNTJfxb72dwA83N4l7nPQd2RZJx4VNBPPScRdoy3n9-KRv7-1PIyK2XgTt7bQaAMgrfobMgEkhyPDgHwgbh0jxkRk7pXtRUTwFRGio9oTvtha2q7NiG8-RWf7k8pJ1MFVXbnIzZAW/s320/blogger-image--1453238460.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><br />
</div><div>.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So there you have it -- including the first 5K at Great America, we've taken part in six different 5K events, one bike ride, and a kayak ride (more on that one another time) in just the last few months. If you had suggested even a year and a half ago that we'd be doing this, even the thought of that being a possibility would have had us laughing our butts off... now, we're walking / wogging / biking them off instead.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Hey -- whatever works.</div><div><br />
</div><div>.</div><div><br />
</div>--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-8762851197785664722013-05-13T22:09:00.001-07:002013-08-22T22:10:22.797-07:0011.3 Miles to Alviso and Back<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Back when I was first starting on my weight loss regimen, Lucie and I bought bicycles with our tax return, so I could get some low-impact exercise. This was back when I was having trouble walking for any long amount of time, so going to the Campbell Community Center track was (back then, at least) out of the question, so we figured getting out and riding bikes would be a good start.<div><br></div><div>As it turns out, the only bike that would take my weight was a cruiser-style bike, with the old-style coaster (I.e., back-pedal activated) brakes. I hadn't used that style of bicycle brakes since I was in grade school, and while the saying that you can't forget how to ride a bike might be true, the same doesn't go for stopping e bike once you're moving. After a couple of embarrassing events where I cruised well past my intended stopping point -- including at Vasona Park where I tried to prop myself on a concrete curb, and ended up missing the curb, falling over, and spraining my wrist trying to break my fall -- I sort of put the bike away on our balcony and concentrated on walking.</div><div><br></div><div>Since the completion of the Guadalupe River Trail through downtown San Jose, winding along the Guadalupe River all the way up into Alviso, earlier this year -- the trail itself has been around for a long time, but was just recently paved its entire length -- we've been thinking about riding it. But, not on that bike; because it doesn't like me. Much like Hawai'i, I believe the bike kind of wants to kill me.</div><div><br></div><div>We end up using the last of our tax return money to buy a replacement bike, a 21-speed hybrid bike with a more upright sitting position so it's easier on my back. It's more comfortable, faster, and a LOT lighter than my cruiser, though it doesn't have the spiffy flame paint job. Ah well; can't have everything. It has the hand brakes I'm used to, so I'm able to stop where I want to, which is probably better than aesthetics anyway.</div><div><br></div><div>We put the bikes on the back of Meg and drive up to my work. It's located right next to an entrance onto the Guadalupe Trail, it has secure parking, and we can take city streets there, so no worries about bikes flying off the back of our car at freeway speeds.</div><div><br></div><div>The trail itself is beautiful... Raised above the Guadalupe River, fully paved and 6 feet wide, underpasses at all of the major streets; it really is a joy to ride. The pollen can get a little brutal since you're out in the middle of nature, and if its a windy day you can struggle to move more than a few feet per minute; but you can see ducks and Canada geese in the river, and lush foliage, and the new Niners stadium being built near the Great America theme park... and if you follow the trail all the way up into Alviso, you end up not two blocks away from Maria Elena's Restaurant, home of some of the tastiest guacamole we've had in a long time. Stopping there and enjoying a light lunch on the patio (where you can keep an eye on your bicycles) is a very pleasant way to rest up before the ride back.</div><div><br></div><div>We had ridden this trail a few times before, but had never gotten all the way to the end -- we were just starting out and hadnt built up the stamina yet; this was the first time we'd managed to make it all the way, and so we treated ourselves to a light lunch (plus the guacamole) before heading back home. All in all, the round trip was a little over 11 and a quarter miles, which surprised us a bit... it didn't seem like that far, but just a nice leisurely ride alongside a calm riverbed where geese were swimming, trees (and clouds of pollen) swayed in the breeze, birds flew overhead and squirrels scampered below, and we had a nice big trophy waiting for us halfway through, in the form of some tasty, tasty guacamole.</div><div><br></div><div>Mmmm, guacamole.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbuEew1IH65ZTHvqMVzTo9VwTzUMo6AE-fjmM3O9p11-blvkpCCIV_N2PuXiC7KNCp0oFxoDxzK1ENdn4a0xOukKk7kRgE7YIXdvKs8NrBHHkSsoIiDBM6RrtnWf8i-hn1QirhnMpk6lz/s640/blogger-image-1258136484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbuEew1IH65ZTHvqMVzTo9VwTzUMo6AE-fjmM3O9p11-blvkpCCIV_N2PuXiC7KNCp0oFxoDxzK1ENdn4a0xOukKk7kRgE7YIXdvKs8NrBHHkSsoIiDBM6RrtnWf8i-hn1QirhnMpk6lz/s640/blogger-image-1258136484.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>.</div><div><br></div>--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-68065818412484557582013-05-06T22:38:00.001-07:002013-08-22T22:11:03.867-07:003.2 Miles on a Sunday in Santa ClaraSo 2 years ago, I couldn't walk around the block without having to stop at least 3 or 4 times to rest because of back and knee pain, and because I was so incredibly out of shape. ITBS on my left leg, plantar fasciitis in my right foot, bone-on-bone arthritis in both knees, transitional joint at my L5 vertebra, and of course morbid obesity. Increasing pain caused me to exercise less, which increased my weight gain, which in turn added to my pain. Pretty bad cycle, that.<br>
<br>
I've been working on it for a while now, and have made some good progress. My back and knees are giving me a lot fewer problems lately, so much that I was able to stop taking one of my pain meds; I've been working with our personal trainer (along with Lucie) and have greatly increased my stamina; I've dropped a lot of weight and am walking much faster than I used to... I've still got a ways to go, to be sure, but I've made some good progress.<br>
<br>
Last year, I not only managed to walk 2 miles at the Susan G. Komen for the Cure walk in Fresno, but the following weekend Lucie and I walked the 5K walk at the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer event in San Jose. It was done at a very easy pace, from the Shark Tank to San Jose State University and back, with many stops along the way for traffic lights; it took almost three hours to complete, and by the end of the walk I was limping because I'd cracked one of my toenails... but I was able to complete it. It was kind of a little thing, but it made me happy.<br>
<br>
Since then, Lucie has really been working on her walking / jogging (she calls it "wogging") duration. She completed a Couch to 5K training app on her iPhone, and is currently working on a 5K to 10K variant. I'm very proud of her.<br>
<br>
My knees, however, won't allow me to jog, so when we go to the Campbell Community Center I have to walk while Lucie gets her wog on. I do have fun walking while listening to my "Zombies, Run!" app, but I need to have the zombie chase option disabled because I can't run for any extended amount of time. In a real zombie apocalypse, I'd be undead chow in no time.<br>
<br>
And I *can* walk for long distances, but just not very quickly. Or I can walk relatively quickly, but not for long distances -- I've gotten blisters on the bottoms of my feet on more than one occasion trying to do so.<br>
<br>
But I'm working on it.<br>
<br>
I made a personal promise after the Boston Marathon bombing attack that I would start participating in as many 5K events as I could. We signed up for the Guadalupe River Run last month, but were unable to participate (though I did get my racing bib.)<br>
<br>
And this past weekend, Lucie and I took part in the Mission City 5K, at the California's Great America theme park. It started in the park itself, meandered through the various sections of the park, then outside the park and around the perimeter of the parking lot, then back inside the park to the finish line. Lucie could have wogged it and finished the route much more quickly than she did, but she slowed her pace greatly and walked it with me, and we finished the 3.2-mile course in just under an hour. My right foot is hurting a little bit today, but no blisters to speak of and my knee seemed to handle it okay.<br>
<br>
Because it was presented as a "family fun run", all participants in the race received completion medals for either the 1-mile distance or the full 5K. Lucie and I received the medals as well.<br>
<br>
And it's kind of funny... these are the same sort of things that 6-year old children get when they play in soccer tournaments, where everyone gets "Participant" trophies. From a competitive point of view, these things are pretty much meaningless, and I can see that.<br>
<br>
But speaking as someone who in 24 months has gone from practically couchridden to being able to walk at a brisk pace for over three miles; who still has a cane behind the driver's seat of his car because he's scared that his left knee or his right foot or his back or any number of other physical deficiencies might crop up again; who has lost 100 pounds and three shirt sizes and who is still trying desperately to lose more; who has just completed his first 5K since Boston and who is trying to do his very small, insignificant-to-practically-everyone-but-himself part to show solidarity with the runners and residents of Boston and that they have the support and admiration of the common man; and who is trying like hell to live a longer and healthier life with his wife and family whom he loves... this medal means a whole hell of a lot.<br>
<br>
And I'm pretty damn proud of it.<br>
<br>
.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBmlDskAYRkW9eJb88WfMKg3hODiqHE0qbWfvWEbchi5sz-6-CKNDZX2zrxeY77xE6SC_JicQCLYrabhs6EmnwCgUfCK_A9m61Llxyszh0r5LlkmgGl-FCMwuZFI-OCbANct4XAYqTLPu4/s640/blogger-image-406427951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBmlDskAYRkW9eJb88WfMKg3hODiqHE0qbWfvWEbchi5sz-6-CKNDZX2zrxeY77xE6SC_JicQCLYrabhs6EmnwCgUfCK_A9m61Llxyszh0r5LlkmgGl-FCMwuZFI-OCbANct4XAYqTLPu4/s640/blogger-image-406427951.jpg"></a></div>--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-81067940631146618262013-03-23T15:48:00.001-07:002013-03-23T15:48:58.826-07:0042 Years Ago, In a City Not Far Away...Dang, I'm old.<br />
<br />
.<br />
--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-84194507409929476772013-03-16T20:59:00.001-07:002013-03-19T00:16:24.867-07:0028 Pounds at a 27-Inch DrawSo up until a month or so ago, I hadn't been out practicing archery in probably about ten years. I used to go out to the range fairly often, with either my longbow or with my compound bow; but as I got busier with work, and fatter and less able to walk any real distances -- much less while carrying a heavy bow case -- I had put aside my archery equipment and kind of forgotten about it. In fact, I had lost track of where my compound bow was after I had brought it in to show during one of my speech classes, and had thought it gone for good. About a month ago, however, I ran across it as we were cleaning up our place, and the urge hit me once again.<br />
<br />
This brings us to now. Because I haven't shot my compound bow in so long, I'm a bit concerned about its safety and reliability; the string is incredibly waxed and seems to be in surprisingly good condition, but I'm not so sure about everything else. So, I have my Pearson Flame compound bow -- made around 1993, last shot around 2003 -- professionally tuned up at a "nearby" archery place (I use quotation marks because while there used to be 4 different archery places in San Jose, they've all since closed up shop and the closest two options are in Gilroy or in Newark; and I actually end up using a place in Clovis that I went to the last time we went to Fresno) so it's reset back to the factory specs with regards to draw weight, and adjusted so the arrows fly straight, and the cables and wheels verified to be all in good condition. I also have the arrow rest replaced with a more current model, which provides a more secure and safe resting place for the arrows so they're less likely to slip. Plus, the new arrow rest is called a "whisker biscuit", which is a funny name, so that's definitely a plus.<br />
<br />
Excitedly, I get my refreshed bow back and take it out to an indoor range in Palo Alto (not an archery shop, but an indoor range, and the closest one to us) to get the sights dialed in to the new arrow rest. I take a few shots, adjust the sight a little bit, and take another few shots.<br />
<br />
The sight falls off the bow.<br />
<br />
I work on it some more, a little embarrassed because this is happening in front of a bunch of other folks, and try again. I tighten the hex bolts as tight as I can, and take a few shots.<br />
<br />
The sight falls off the bow <i>again</i>, and gets damaged when it hits the floor. Apparently, the metal fatigued or something during its hibernation period, because it's not securing like it should -- and now some of the pins are bent so they can't be adjusted at all. Frustrated, I stop for the night and cheer on my wife as she shoots a recurve bow for the first time. She's very, very impressive for a newb. Better than I was, in fact; but hopefully I'll give a better showing once I replace my sight.<br />
<br />
So we head back down to Gilroy and I buy a replacement bow sight -- very nice one, not too expensive, but with enclosed pins so they're better protected than the one I had before, with a level so I can make sure the bow is being held straight, and with fiber optic lighting for better viewing (I love technology.) At the same time, we buy Lucie her first bow, an Olympic style take-down recurve, very attractive style and setup, and something which we feel is worthy of being her tax return splurge purchase.<br />
<br />
A few days later we go back to the Palo Alto range after work, Lucie shoots her new bow, and I work on dialing in my new bow sights. Lucie shoots even better than she did before, which is both extremely impressive and possibly just a little tiny bit demoralizing to a guy who used to shoot a lot and who didn't pick it up nearly as quickly as she is.<br />
<br />
I take a few shots, and suddenly the mechanical release I'm using practically explodes; the body of the release can't handle that much stress after ten years to slumber, and pieces of plastic -- or resin, or polycarbonate, or whatever kind of nonorganic shrapnel it is -- go flying everywhere. I feel a chunk mash into my face, and I'm positive it's cut me open and I'm now bleeding. Once again, I have to cut my shooting short and once again cheer on my wife as she impresses everyone but herself ("I'm only shooting at a target five yards away" she says, and "You're hitting bulls-eyes consistently, and it's only your third time shooting a recurve <i>ever!</i>" I reply.) Good news: my cheek is only mildly scratched; bad news: I've now had bad experiences with this bow twice in a row, and I can see that the string needs replacing or it might snap where the serving is becoming weak, and I'm actually more than a little intimidated about shooting the Flame again until I take a break from it and calm the heck down.<br />
<br />
So we go down to Gilroy, <i>again</i>, and I use <i>my</i> tax return splurge purchase to get a recurve of my own. I figure, after ten years of not shooting, I need to work on my fundamentals first to get my form back to where it needs to be; and with a more simple bow I can focus on my stance, draw point, foot positioning, and everything else that Lucie has come close to mastering in such a short time.<br />
<br />
I end up getting a similar bow to Lucie's only with a slightly stronger draw weight, right handed body, stiffer arrows, and silver limbs instead of her white ones. At my full draw length of 27 inches, it's pulling 28 pounds; a good weight, not so much that I can't hold the draw long enough to aim properly, but enough that I can come somewhat close to the feel I had with the Flame.<br />
<br />
I've only gone shooting with it twice so far, but it feels good. My grouping isn't as good as Lucie's, but I'm realizing that I had developed some really bad shooting habits with the Flame and I'm having some trouble reprogramming myself. It'll come, in time. In the meantime, we have something new to do together that's at least a little more active than sitting on the couch, which takes us outside on weekends, and which once again lets me live my childhood fantasies of being the Marvel Comics superhero Hawkeye... or maybe Wolverine with a bow. He went to Japan, right? They like archery there....<br />
<br />
Anyway, until such time as I feel brave enough (not "Merida" brave, because I think she rocked a longbow) enough to pick up the Flame again, I have a newer, safer, and simpler setup. Because the riser is a nice glossy black, and the limbs are silver, I have named my bow Jackson.<br />
<br />
Go Raiders!<br />
<br />
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<br />
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--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-58129420370085905512013-02-23T14:15:00.001-08:002013-02-23T14:15:07.556-08:001 Customer for Life, in San JoseSo we're feeling particularly lazy and grumpy after a long and irritating day at work, so we decide to stop by Tandoori Cafe, corner of Stevens Creek and Lawrence Expressway. This isn't the most authentic Indian food joint we've been to, but it <I>is</I> very convenient, and tasty, and their chapli kebabs are nicely spicy; we come here every couple of months or so. Not every week by any means, but often enough to where Yelp calls me a regular, and to where we recognize the guys working the register.<br />
<br />
And the guy behind the register recognizes us as well.<br />
<br />
After we place our order (a lamb boti wrap for my wife, lamb saag for me, and chapli kebabs, naan, and dal for us to share), he says, "and this is for... Lucie, right?" Lucie and I glance at each other briefly. He remembers her name, without any prompts.<br />
<br />
Maybe we come here a little too often.<br />
<br />
And then the guys looks at me and says, "Hey, you've been working out or something, haven't you; because you've lost a bunch of weight. You look good."<br />
<br />
Maybe we don't come here <I>enough.</I> Buddy, you've made a loyal customer for life.<br />
<br />
.<br />
--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-83395906290763496072013-02-21T22:26:00.001-08:002013-02-21T22:39:25.906-08:002 Dishes, 1 Result, in SunnyvaleJust because my wife and I are working on losing weight doesn't mean we don't have adventures in dining any more. On the recommendation of some co-workers, we've gone out to try new and exotic food from exotic cultures in less-than-exotic (and downright dirty and borderline unsavory) locations.<br />
<br />
We've had Korean tofu stew in an Asian food court in a strip mall. We've had awesome teppanyaki and bacon fried rice at a Japanese steakhouse in Fresno. We've had Korean barbecue buffet at a shiny but crowded joint along El Camino Real (which has no shortage of Korean restaurants, all of them begging to be tried.) And we've had Thai food at a small hole in the wall in Sunnyvale, which led to one of my more memorable spicy food experiences. That last meal is the one I'm here to talk about.<br />
<br />
Pad Thai Cuisine is a tiny little place on Lawrence Expressway in Sunnyvale, located in the same area as St. John's Bar & Grill (some of the better burgers in the area, but we're not here to talk about burgers. Forget the burgers. Put those juicy, grilled-to-perfection, smoky patties of beefy goodness out of your mind, even if you're thinking of the bleu bacon burgers, with the tangy thick flavor of the bleu cheese combined perfectly with the fatty salty accompaniment of their thick-cut bacon; or their mushroom Swiss burger with the almost-too-greasy-but-really-just-greasy-enough sautéed mushrooms smothered in the almost acidic tartness of a melted layer of nice Swiss cheese; and also don't think about their baskets of fries, all crunchy and perfectly salted, with curry ketchup or ranch dressing for dipping; or the calamari, or nicely spicy chili, or... crap. Now I want burgers.)<br />
<br />
Where was I? Oh yeah, Thai food.<br />
<br />
The exterior of Pad Thai Cuisine is less than impressive; a generic storefront identical to the Subway sandwich shop a few doors down, or the falafel place or yoga studio, all of which can only be differentiated by the signage in front. It's when you go inside that you start to become impressed... wooden facades cover the walls, giving the place almost a farmhouse feel; a myriad (well, not actually ten thousand, but a boatload [well, not actually a literal boat-full, but a large number]) of hand-carved wooden sculptures and privacy screens definitely give it an exotic Thailand vibe; and the occasional out of place item like the fancy golden pendulum clock on the wall liven the place up a bit and give it a little bit of quirky appeal.<br />
<br />
And the FOOD. Yeah, I know -- talking about a restaurant's food is <I>so</I> cliché, but bear with... can't fill an entire blog post describing the intricacies of the many-layered elephant herd that was artfully and beautifully hand-carved into the piece of driftwood they have hanging on the wall. We had been here once before with some co-workers of Lucie's, so we knew a little bit about the food offerings, but this time we went by ourselves so we were able to be a little more liberal with the choices.<br />
<br />
We started with the appetizers of chicken satay skewers and the Thai spicy wings. The chicken skewers are good -- they almost look as though they're formed from ground chicken, but there's also the grain of actual chicken meat, so not entirely sure how they're made. The result, however they're made, is juicy but with a peppery, almost dry taste to the outside layer, and with the peanut satay sauce bringing an almost creamy counter to create a nice balance of flavors and textures, all on a stick (which makes eating anything more enjoyable.) When I order the spicy wings and they ask me how spicy I want them, I flippantly reply, "how spicy can you make 'em?"<br />
<br />
Apparently, these guys take this as a challenge. They bring the heat, in a big way. The wings themselves are deep fried to lava-hot perfection (anybody who tried to claim that baked chicken wings are just as good are lying. Baked chicken wings may be <I>healthier</I>, but never as good as deep fried. Ever.) These suckers come to the table still too hot to hold with your fingers, as I find out when I pick one up to sample; doing what nobody in their right mind would do, I immediately jam the wing -- probably still bubbling on the inside it's so hot -- into my mouth so I can let go and protect my fingers. This proves to not be the smartest thing I have done this decade, but the pain of the temperature-based heat still isn't enough to distract me even the slightest from the spice-based heat. These wings are <B><I>SPICY.</B></I> It's a Thai sauce, so there's a sweet aspect to it -- most likely a honey based glaze -- but the heat from the chilies is truly immense. My lips turn numb, my nose immediately starts running, and my eyes water as I take bite after searing bite of the wings, needing to let go of the wings between bites because it still hurts to hold them they're so hot. But the flavor is seriously <B>fantastic</B>. Juicy chicken wings with a crust that is superbly crispy but not so crunchy it's distracting; and a thick and gooey glaze that is deeply spicy with a sweet finish. I love my hot wings, and in all honesty these are the best hot wings I've ever had. No acidic vinegar blast like you get with run-of-the-mill buffalo wings; no chewy skin from baked wings; no healthy or convenient alternatives like skinless or boneless; just pure hot wing bliss.<br />
<br />
Lucie can only eat two of the wings because they're a bit too intense for her, which hurts me a little. Not because her not eating them hurts me emotionally; but because I eat more of the wings myself, which hurts me and my mouth in ways that shouldn't be described too vividly lest they give James Wan or Eli Roth ideas and Thai spicy wings end up as one of the torture devices in <I>Saw the 13th: Freddy vs. Leatherface.</I><br />
<br />
Our entrees are preceded by the restaurant's free offer of their version of agadashi tofu, small cubes of tempura tofu on a bed of pickled carrots. I have grown to love just about all versions of agadashi tofu, and this is no exception. Soft tofu provides an almost melted consistency when compared to the slight crunch of the crips breading; and the very mild flavor gives my taste buds a brief respite from the spicy wings, nearly fooling them into thinking the pain of uber-hot Thai food is over. Then, of course, the main course arrives and my taste buds get jumped from behind and kicked senseless by a street gang of spicy thugs in the form of chili peppers.<br />
<br />
Lucie goes for the pad thai (I mean, if the place is called "Pad Thai Cuisine" you kind of ought to, right?) with a mild heat level, and I have the beef pad see ew, also ordered with the "how spicy can you make it?" challenge. It's essentially pad thai, except pad thai's thin rice noodles cooked in tamarind are replaced with thick, almost meaty slabs of rice noodle cooked in soy sauce with broccoli and egg. Think of it as the Thai version of chow fun, except with a spicy heat that rivals the gentle warm glow of nuclear fuel rods.<br />
<br />
It's delicious. And painful. But delicious. I wolf down (an appropriate metaphor, since my taste buds are howling) most of my food, saving some space for dessert. The few bites I have of Lucie's pad thai are slightly sweet and tart from the tamarind, and the few bites she has of mine are "something that would hurt Corporal Hicks more than a face full of alien blood" (I might be paraphrasing her words, since I'm the geek in the marriage) but also well received. We combine our leftovers into one container for the next day so she can increase her heat levels a lot and I can dilute mine slightly, and we order dessert -- fried bananas with ice cream.<br />
<br />
The fried bananas are golf ball sized chunks of banana, battered and fried, the crispy tempura shell being a nice contrast to the warm and mushy fruit, almost pungent with the caramelized sugars that result from the cooking process. The ice cream (served on the side by request, out of consideration for the lactose intolerant) is a tiger stripe of strawberry jam in vanilla ice cream, very good but almost cloyingly sweet when paired with the bananas. They also offer the fried bananas with a honey sauce instead of ice cream -- something we'll have to have next time we come here.<br />
<br />
The sweet cream from the ice cream, and the sugars from the banana, are still not enough to stop the effects of my dishes, and I resolve that the next time we come here -- and we will be coming back, make no mistake -- I'll still order the Thai spicy wings and the pad see ew, but maybe I'll just stick with "spicy, please" when they ask, instead of "how spicy can you make it?"<br />
<br />
Or maybe not -- as painful as it gets eating supremely spicy Thai food, the flavors are outstanding, and once the endorphins kick in, I almost get a little heady eating the stuff. It's not so hot that I don't enjoy the flavors, but also spicy enough where I wouldn't want to eat it every day.<br />
<br />
Once in a while, though, it totally and completely hits the spot.<br />
<br />
(Not <I>THAT</I> "spot"; that happens the next day, and it does indeed get hit. But let's not talk about that bit.)<br />
<br />
.<br />
<br />
--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-8672565451593700602012-09-21T12:27:00.000-07:002012-09-21T12:27:13.267-07:004.5 Hours of Supposed Willpower in Silicon ValleySo it's iPhone 5 Day, and Apple's latest shiny toy has been on sale for almost four and a half hours.<br />
<br />
I don't have one yet. <br />
<br />
And I don't have any plans to run out and get one today, either.<br />
<br />
.<br />
<br />
This isn't willpower, though. I just had to go in to work, so I couldn't stand in line. And I don't qualify for a fully subsidized price point, either, and I'm too cheap to spring for the ridiculously high full price.<br />
<br />
But it sounds so much more impressive if I say it's willpower, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
.<br />
<br />--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5025706452310520322.post-5541324877302726902012-09-07T16:04:00.001-07:002012-09-10T20:14:30.667-07:008-10 Minutes of Pure and Complete Terror<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Note -- humor is my coping mechanism. I may sound flippant about the following, but in all honesty I am still very completely freaked out... it's just that I've always been determined to keep my blog whimsical and fun, since I don't like to do the whole drama thing in public. That's why I've only been posting entries when we've done something exciting or entertaining, and will continue to do so. I hope that this entry will be the sole exception. Also, there might be some swear words in this entry -- not completely sure just yet, but giving this warning just in case anyone might object to panic-induced profanity.)</i></span></span><br />
<br />
.<br />
<br />
So Lucie and I have been hitting the track down at the Campbell Community Center a few times a week, where I walk laps and Lucie does a walk-jog combination that my knees can't handle (at least not yet.) And that's pretty groovy -- we get some exercise, and we sweat, but again it's not so strenuous that it knocks us out or anything.<br />
<br />
And we've both been working out with our personal trainer since the beginning of this year (I've been doing it since July of last year; Lucie started this January), and while she's been working us pretty hard every time it's never been so hard we can't handle it.<br />
<br />
And we've both been dieting as well for about the same amount of time, and we've both lost a pretty decent amount of weight. So that's pretty awesome, and we do make sure we get a sufficient amount of energy and liquids so we don't feel any ill effects.<br />
<br />
Except for this last time.<br />
<br />
We just finished up a week-long staycation, where we did a few day trips but mostly stayed at home and rested -- at least one blog entry to follow regarding one of the day trip; I haven't gotten to it yet because I'm a slacker who's still mostly on vacation time. And, you know, this whole episode sort of got me sidetracked a bit.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I went back to work the day after Labor Day, while Lucie took one more day off. That evening, we had our Tuesday session with our personal trainer as usual... except it wasn't really all that normal.<br />
<br />
At the very last part of our session, Lucie was a little winded, so she was sitting down for a quick rest talking to our trainer about jogging (our trainer -- who I shall henceforth call J -- runs, jogs, sprints, and generally does lots of cockroach-fast movement type stuff on weekends, and has been giving Lucie helpful tips since Lucie's been working up to doing the 5K run at the next Komen for the Cure event in Fresno.) As the conversation went on, Lucie started to feel more exhausted, and her vision started to tunnel a little. This turned into her having a little trouble breathing, which turned into her tilting to one side without realizing it, which turned into both J and me on either side of my wife, trying to help her sit back up, which turned into her being helped onto the floor, which turned into her turning a horrifying gray color and lapsing into unconsciousness while J tried to wake her up and I was running around in circles in a sheer panic, gibbering like an idiot only much less coherent or effective.<br />
<br />
J -- who already was pretty nifty a person but who shall from now on be top-shelf awesome as far as I'm concerned -- kept her cool and had me call 911 while she kept trying to get Lucie to wake up. Now, when it comes to my own health and safety, I am apathetic at best, and downright masochistic when I'm feeling particularly hard on myself; but it's a <i>slightly</i> different story when it's my wife under duress. After this episode I will never again scoff at all of those cliché scenes in books or movies where the husband goes all goofy when his wife is in duress. Because THAT shit got REAL, and fast. My iPhone says that the call only lasted ten minutes, but that is so obviously a floating digit error or something because I know for a fact that what followed lasted no less than thirteen full years -- or maybe that's just how much my life was shortened.<br />
<br />
During this time, under the seemingly calm and polite but insistent "recommendations" of both J and the nice lady on the other end of my 911 call, I gently and carefully moved out of the weight room where we were situated, so as to get better cell phone reception (possibly breaking a Raymond-shaped hole in the wall like a hapless animated coyote -- my memory is a bit hazy); proceeded in a docile manner into the reception area of the building (possibly hurling the children playing basketball out of my way like they were cabers and I was a caffeine-fueled berseker Scotsman at the highland games -- can't quite recall the specifics) where I politely requested the presence of the gentleman there to assist with J's efforts (I seem to remember grabbing some sensitive body parts to drag him, and there may have been some kicking and screaming and threats -- but that might just be vague remnants of a non-related fever dream); coolly related the verbal instructions from the 911 operator to J and the reception guy in a levelheaded manner (possibly shrieking the instructions over and over in the voice of a preteen girl, like a stuttering castrato auctioneer on crystal meth -- really, who's to say?), and kept everyone nearby calm and quiet until the paramedics arrived.<br />
<br />
I mean, seriously... I was a freakin' <i>rock.</i><br />
<br />
Lucie had regained consciousness by the time the EMTs arrived, and I had handed my phone over to J so I could be with my wife in the cellular dead zone while J could wait for the EMTs by the front door and direct them to where we were. Pretty sure J was panicking like a girl or something, but hey -- what can you do? The four firemen who arrived first, and the three paramedics who showed up shortly afterwards, were to my recollection all huge manly men, at least seven feet tall and muscled like superheroes, glowing softly with a beautiful golden aura like Zeus surely must have when he came down from Olympus to hook up mere mortals with EKG pads, and with chins that thrust out proudly and in a masculine manner which would put Bruce Campbell's to shame. They lifted her onto a gurney (I swear that I remember seeing one of the guys lifting her up with just a single finger, and spinning her like a basketball held aloft by a Harlem Globetrotter as he moonwalked over to the gurney because they were ALL SO HUGELY INCREDIBLE PEOPLE) and wheeled her out to the ambulance to drive her to Kaiser Permanente hospital.<br />
<br />
J kept asking me if I was okay to drive over there by myself -- really, it was sort of quaint how nervous some people get in this situation -- but eventually relented and let me go, with the promise that I keep her informed.<br />
<br />
I got into Meg, beat the ambulance to Kaiser, and eventually met back up with Lucie in the ER where she was relaxing in bed like nothing had happened. At first the doctors were sure it was just dehydration, but due to the duration of her syncope they had some concerns about it being heart arrhythmia or something worse so they kept her overnight for observation. My vision of the "something worse" being Mola Ram sneaking into Lucie's room all ninja-like and pulling the beating heart out of her chest did not come to pass, which was unexpected but in a good way.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWm11DClod5Xcvl_HUnJvAW_59BBAKe1Qa41R-X2S0NQJoY-Dkcuj9D8MtmC9jNtqXXmQfZBcFUl0XgieWhxl9EyOOV1KLNnXuXKjzAS3M2o8eJkeS7U_OtjusKqkCHKuKUaOUkA4XpKV/s640/blogger-image--932877824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWm11DClod5Xcvl_HUnJvAW_59BBAKe1Qa41R-X2S0NQJoY-Dkcuj9D8MtmC9jNtqXXmQfZBcFUl0XgieWhxl9EyOOV1KLNnXuXKjzAS3M2o8eJkeS7U_OtjusKqkCHKuKUaOUkA4XpKV/s640/blogger-image--932877824.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slightly dramatized...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At this point they've pretty much decided it was dehydration due to the minimal amount of food and drink Lucie had eaten that day, but they're doing a treadmill stress test and echocardiogram in a few days to completely rule out any potential cardiac issues. Until then, she's released from the hospital and back to normal, and it's just maybe potentially possibly theoretically the case that any time Lucie coughs, or changes position when she's sitting on the couch, or makes any sort of movement or noise WHATSOEVER I freak out and ask her if she's okay. Hopefully I'm subtle about it, though, so she doesn't notice.<br />
<br />
Lucie's biggest regret about the ordeal? She left the black bandana she was wearing as a sweatband in the weight room when she collapsed and had to be wheeled out on the stretcher, and she thinks she might have lost it. She *liked* that bandana.<br />
<br />
.<br />
<br />
I'm hoping I don't wet myself when I have that heart attack.<br />
<br />
.<br />
<br />
<br />--Silverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13805209919922244020noreply@blogger.com0