It has been nearly five years since I've been in Helsinki and the old place is growing up. Starbuck's has not figured out that a country who experiences the dark for long periods of time might be perfect candidates for their products, so finding a cup of coffee to get over the jet lag has been difficult.
We left San Francisco Wednesday afternoon and after an 11 hour flight to Frankfurt followed by a four-hour layover we picked up our luggage and rode in Jakke's Volvo - boxy but safe! Anttii and Jakke have a cute two-bedroom apartment which is within five minutes from my old Metro station.
Our first day was spent wandering a bit around Helsinki. We visited Sokos and then wandered the esplanade and explored the farmer's market. Mr. Bunny has been featured in many pictures and will probably break up our relationship. Mr. Bunny is a nasty little finger puppet that Frank won at the Renaissance Faire. I amused by the fact that I can stick him on my finger and put him the frame for many of the "postcard" shots. Frank claims I'm taking more pictures of the bunny than I am of him. Apparently the bunny is more cooperative.
We have now booked a ferry trip to Stockholm which will depart the Saturday after we return from Russia. I'm praying that I don't get any food reactions ... that could be a deadly combination although if it let my buy pants from a regular store. I realize this is a digression but I was thoroughly traumatized at Old Navy when I discovered that A) I could not fit into a size 38 and B) the size 40's they carried did not have an inseam of 34 - translated, they had fat pants but only fat pants for short people.
In short, we are having a fabulous time and the weather is a balmy 65 degrees.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Camping on a Fallen Hero
The drive from San Francisco to Guerneville was an uneventful end to a very long travel day. The boys from Under One Roof were doing a weekend away and Frank had the honor of setting up our new Costco Tent (a.k.a. the Taj) for the two of us. In theory, the ten is configured to sleep 9 people. The reality, it is the perfect size for two 6'4" men.
The weekend was a relaxing one and Saturday was spent touring Korbel, eating and of course preparing our white trash dinner! Our resort had seen better days, though according to legend (See below) we could have been camping over the site where the body of a Marine was found - the victim of some of Charles Manson's followers.
I lived in a slummy trailer park called Parker's Resort on Neeley Road in Guerneville. Folklore has it that Charles Manson's Family had lived here in the 60's. (On November 8, 1972, a hiker discovered a hand protruding from the ground. It belonged to a 26 year old Marine who had been shotgunned and decapitated. Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme and two Aryan Brotherhood prison escapees were subsequently arrested in Stockton and charged with the murder.) The campground had hundreds of chickens, both hens and roosters, descendents of those raised by the Family. They lived wild, under trailers, in trees, shrubs, and junked cars. Every time I opened my trailer door, 30 chickens would stampede into my home on the hunt for bread crumbs, dog food, or anything else I had.
A good time was had and prospects look good for a second weekend in the future.
View Chris's Pictures
View Frank's Pictures
The weekend was a relaxing one and Saturday was spent touring Korbel, eating and of course preparing our white trash dinner! Our resort had seen better days, though according to legend (See below) we could have been camping over the site where the body of a Marine was found - the victim of some of Charles Manson's followers.
I lived in a slummy trailer park called Parker's Resort on Neeley Road in Guerneville. Folklore has it that Charles Manson's Family had lived here in the 60's. (On November 8, 1972, a hiker discovered a hand protruding from the ground. It belonged to a 26 year old Marine who had been shotgunned and decapitated. Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme and two Aryan Brotherhood prison escapees were subsequently arrested in Stockton and charged with the murder.) The campground had hundreds of chickens, both hens and roosters, descendents of those raised by the Family. They lived wild, under trailers, in trees, shrubs, and junked cars. Every time I opened my trailer door, 30 chickens would stampede into my home on the hunt for bread crumbs, dog food, or anything else I had.
A good time was had and prospects look good for a second weekend in the future.
View Chris's Pictures
View Frank's Pictures
What is up with Bob?
Eric, formerlly known as LA Ben, introduced Frank and myself to Hollywood Bob (HB) a few years ago. A fabulous screaming homosexual who is also a very amusing writer. If you haven't discovered "Love Handles" you should do so now.
At the bottom of his current column is a link to his previous ones. Sadly, as he is on the low road toward losing weight ... my journey has been on the high road (i.e. high caloric intact, high gym avoidance, etc.).
Happy Reading!
For those of you are wondering why Ben is now Eric or as HB calls him Beneric, here's the skinny.
For those of you who don't know the story... My mom named me Eric Shane Johnson, when I was born. Years later --when her life didn't turn out the way she wanted it -- she changed my name to Benjamin Michael Gunnar (she married an asshole). I was 9 years old, so it was a huge pain in the ass to explain to everyone that "Eric" wasn't good enough; NO, it doesn't make any sense. I've never really liked "ben". It's a dull name. "Eric" is sharp, and I'm trying to hone an edge.
At the bottom of his current column is a link to his previous ones. Sadly, as he is on the low road toward losing weight ... my journey has been on the high road (i.e. high caloric intact, high gym avoidance, etc.).
Happy Reading!
For those of you are wondering why Ben is now Eric or as HB calls him Beneric, here's the skinny.
For those of you who don't know the story... My mom named me Eric Shane Johnson, when I was born. Years later --when her life didn't turn out the way she wanted it -- she changed my name to Benjamin Michael Gunnar (she married an asshole). I was 9 years old, so it was a huge pain in the ass to explain to everyone that "Eric" wasn't good enough; NO, it doesn't make any sense. I've never really liked "ben". It's a dull name. "Eric" is sharp, and I'm trying to hone an edge.
Friday, September 02, 2005
My Brush with Katrina
As a West coast boy, I am familiar with the phrase "Duck and Cover." It is a very handy phrase, one that works in a natural disaster (i.e. the walls are shaking, Duck and Cover) or when visiting friends in East LA and the Uncle says, "Yo White Boy... Duck and Cover." Very simple and very useful. Now what does one do when there is a hurricane? According to anonymous sources in Florida a hurrican equates to consuming large quantities of beer at local hurricane party. Hmm. The roof is going to get ripped off the house and I'm going to be so drunk I won't miss it. I'll take good old earthquakes any day of the year. Yes, they are scary. Yes, they can be destructive, but there are simple rules to remember, duck and cover. With the proliferation of Ikea, it would be better to take cover in a doorway and not under a table cause I doubt the folks in Sweden are mass producing furniture that is meant to last forever and to withstand all sorts of natural disasters.
Anyway, I had my first brush with a hurrican last week during a business trip to St. Petersburg, FL. Landing late Monday afternoon I met an old friend Dana and had a fabulous little catch-up. I am truly blessed to have friends that come and go at different phases and who, when meeting feel like you were chatting about the weather yesterday. Of course, according to one of the security guards at work, everyone is a weather expert in Florida after Andrew last year. CNN and CNN Headline News played constantly and I kept my eye on the pattern in order to determine what to do. Apparently, I had to do nothing since she decided to save me the personal story and went straight to better things. I guess my trip to Oprah with a tale of woe was a bit premature. Sorry Oprah.
Work for the week was exta hectic. End of year stuff and of course the three "official" projects I was working on and the crisis project that had to be dealt with ASAP. Luckiy, Miss Kris was able to drive down from Daytona to keep me company on my last night. She arrived and we headed to dinner and then took a little drive along the coast. The larger than life Miniature Golf course lured us out of the vehicle and the thunder and lightening almost put us back in. It would be rude of me to mention the winner ... so I'll just say the loser paid for the alligator food and we headed down to the live "educational" exhibit to give the poor blue mouthed gators some kibble from a fishing pole. I didn't realize that the little guys were jumpers and while preparing the first nibble screamed like a little girl when the gator threw himself in the air. I watch movies, I know what they want. They saw big white boy and were going for the gold, forget the kibble!
From their it was time for a little Georgie's Alibi - a family establishment. Thursdays are long-island ice tea night and we had to partake. The place was a bit surreal. Lots of women ... or should I say womyn. There was also the typical array of youngsters and oldsters, cowboys, farm hands, and the I can't stop dancing for three hours. The highlight was when Miss Kris squeeked and ran to the other side of me. A womyn of significant stature asked me, "Is that your wife?" (use a husky voice). After a few dances, we called it night.
My flights were on time and for some reason, the one-stop (Denver) included a stop in Las Vegas. I don't know if it was because of Katrina but the flights were BUMPY. Bumpy to the extent that women were crying, bellies were gurgling and I got to land and take off three times. JOY!!!!! Happy to be home in the good old 60 degree heat of San Francisco.
Anyway, I had my first brush with a hurrican last week during a business trip to St. Petersburg, FL. Landing late Monday afternoon I met an old friend Dana and had a fabulous little catch-up. I am truly blessed to have friends that come and go at different phases and who, when meeting feel like you were chatting about the weather yesterday. Of course, according to one of the security guards at work, everyone is a weather expert in Florida after Andrew last year. CNN and CNN Headline News played constantly and I kept my eye on the pattern in order to determine what to do. Apparently, I had to do nothing since she decided to save me the personal story and went straight to better things. I guess my trip to Oprah with a tale of woe was a bit premature. Sorry Oprah.
Work for the week was exta hectic. End of year stuff and of course the three "official" projects I was working on and the crisis project that had to be dealt with ASAP. Luckiy, Miss Kris was able to drive down from Daytona to keep me company on my last night. She arrived and we headed to dinner and then took a little drive along the coast. The larger than life Miniature Golf course lured us out of the vehicle and the thunder and lightening almost put us back in. It would be rude of me to mention the winner ... so I'll just say the loser paid for the alligator food and we headed down to the live "educational" exhibit to give the poor blue mouthed gators some kibble from a fishing pole. I didn't realize that the little guys were jumpers and while preparing the first nibble screamed like a little girl when the gator threw himself in the air. I watch movies, I know what they want. They saw big white boy and were going for the gold, forget the kibble!
From their it was time for a little Georgie's Alibi - a family establishment. Thursdays are long-island ice tea night and we had to partake. The place was a bit surreal. Lots of women ... or should I say womyn. There was also the typical array of youngsters and oldsters, cowboys, farm hands, and the I can't stop dancing for three hours. The highlight was when Miss Kris squeeked and ran to the other side of me. A womyn of significant stature asked me, "Is that your wife?" (use a husky voice). After a few dances, we called it night.
My flights were on time and for some reason, the one-stop (Denver) included a stop in Las Vegas. I don't know if it was because of Katrina but the flights were BUMPY. Bumpy to the extent that women were crying, bellies were gurgling and I got to land and take off three times. JOY!!!!! Happy to be home in the good old 60 degree heat of San Francisco.
Monday, August 22, 2005
SVA Looking for SAM – A Visit to Ca’Toga
Whether Carlo Marchiori is truly a Single Venetian Artist (SVA) looking for a Single Asian Male is pure speculation. One which I will continue to make, though let me state for the record that my speculations are entirely absent of even an ounce of malice. Perhaps it is my jaded perspective from living in San Francisco and a complete lack of understanding for all things artistic … but it seems suspicious when a grown man purchases an empty lot of acreage on the outskirts of Calistoga and turns it into a Venetian compound complete with the ruins of a Greek temple, grottos, anatomically correct rhinos and a suspicious emphasis on the male figure. Add to it a mural where the artist is represented as a Dodges (sp?) being visited by a contingency from Asia (sitting at his feet reaching for the house seal) and you begin to get the picture. Also, I have a friend who claims to have been “cruised” by Mr. Marchiori and invited to the house. Perhaps it was just for a personal tour … again pure speculation.
Anyway, the brochure states that visitors will find themselves in another world, a “world of art, soul, creativity, whimsy and limitless imagination (i.e. gayer than the uncle on Bewitched) and to that end, the house delivered.
Lest anyone think I’m being overly critical, the place is fabulous and I would sell any of my lovely upstairs neighbors for an invitation. Unlike the amazing California Geyser that somehow draws people in droves – isn’t that what tourists in cars should be called these days? – Ca’Toga is a visit to eccentricity that would seem out of place in any other town the size of Calistoga, California if it weren’t another architectural displacement of the wineries that look like villas in Tuscany, castles in Bavaria and French chateaus. A Venetian palace fits perfectly and from the road is a delight to behold … I like to refer to it as the Gay Hearst Castle.
So the question, how did we stumble on this place? Like San Francisco, I get very excited when I come across something new in a place I am very familiar. Having gone school in the valley (1987 – 89), worked at restaurants in Calistoga (1993), and visited on numerous occasions since moving back to the Bay Area in 1994, it took a gaggle of women to first recommend seeing the ceiling at the Ca’toga gallery in Calistoga to get the juices going.
Frank and I had spent a long, relaxing weekend in Calistoga at a B&B and the ladies were also guests. On their recommendation, we wandered in to the gallery and got a glimpse of the “whimsy” and met Tony. Now whether or not “Tony” and the artist are together or if their relationship is purely a platonic working relationship is up for speculation. My nose, upon entering the gallery smelled “Gay” and after my initial greeting with Tony screamed “UBER GAY.” Again, he could simply be a stylish artistic type, with the short-slicked back hair, dark-rimmed glasses, starched shirt and an Asian demeanor. Or he could be a big homo.
Regardless, the gallery is impressive. The barrel-vault ceiling shows the Ptolemaic Constellations in all their mythological grandeur and is the perfect setting for the variety of work that can be purchased. Carlo creates items from murals, to dishes, candlestick holders, and some great paintings that feature Putinella (the clown from Comedia Del arte) … and of course, Tony, who will answer questions with statements like, “The artist, Carlo …” This is also where I saw the book on the house and the fact that during the summer season, tours were given on the property on Saturdays.
This would be a good time to take a glimpse at his website: www.catoga.com
I have great respect for Marchiori’s work and if the had the skills, the time and the property there are many ideas I would steal in a second. I digress. Frank and I ordered tickets and planned a day that would include the tour, lunch and then a visit to Berringer’s Winery for Frank’s wine club shipment. I spoke with Tony and got the low-down on timeliness and the fact that the tickets would not be refunded, nor was there a second tour, etc. We allowed plenty of time to get out of San Francisco and up to Napa Valley in time. San Francisco was buried in fog and it wasn’t until we got to St. Helena that the sun decided to break through and shine the rest of the day. One has to love the fact that within a 90 minute drive there can be a 20+-degree difference in temperature.
We got our tickets and drove to the house. Apparently the neighbors are not his biggest fans or are not fans of visitors. Homemade signs state that visitors should “SLOW DOWN.” As we crawled forward in first gear until we arrived at the twin columned gate mounted with two clown-head figures. Following the signs where to park we passed a very anatomically correct Rhino. I’m not sure if he was guarding the property are looking to mount some unsuspecting vehicle while the occupants were on the tour. This was our first glimpse that belied the pictures of the place.
Now Calistoga gets very dry in the summer, so the parched lawn is understandable. The vine-covered paths were also a bit dry. We had about 15 minutes so we explored the outdoor grotto that was covered with shells and probably is very impressive at night with candle lights and such adding to the magic – in the sunlight … it looked more like a drag queen on her way home in the morning after a night on the town; some things are better seen in the moonlight.
The first thing we noted was that the house appeared to be a structure with a façade put in place. The building looked old but the tin siding viewed from the side and back belied the initial view. At 11:15 Carlo opened the door and his assistant, a Pilipino boy (I’m not saying anything that would upset Tony), took our tickets and we entered the foyer which had an impressive mural of a God spewing water, quite possibly a homage to the Calistoga Geyser.
This is where I have to admit to being thoroughly impressed. The two-story vaulted room had giant murals that intermixed Asian motifs, classic god paintings and many references to Venetian masks and balls. On view was the Pompeii room, the library and two bedrooms upstairs. What made the adventure even more entertaining was the fact that Carlo told little stories and then basically said, “Explore.” I loved the canary bedroom, which if you closed the door felt like you were inside a birdcage with a giant cat looking in on you. A giant leaf of lettuce covered the window and a sign indicated that guests who stayed in the room were provided with canary-yellow pajamas. Not that I’m speculating anything … but how many “straight” artists would require anyone to wear canary-yellow anything. The fact that Carlo lives onsite and really was opening his home was also impressive.
Following our exploration of the house he took on a tour of the house and gardens. He has recreated a Roman bath, a Greek temple, a river walk and of course the afore mentioned grotto. Is he a single artist looking for love? Or perhaps just a man who has the means to follow his passions. Either way, Ca’toga is a worthwhile adventure and one you should look into if you are ever in Calistoga on a Saturday with time on your hands.
Anyway, the brochure states that visitors will find themselves in another world, a “world of art, soul, creativity, whimsy and limitless imagination (i.e. gayer than the uncle on Bewitched) and to that end, the house delivered.
Lest anyone think I’m being overly critical, the place is fabulous and I would sell any of my lovely upstairs neighbors for an invitation. Unlike the amazing California Geyser that somehow draws people in droves – isn’t that what tourists in cars should be called these days? – Ca’Toga is a visit to eccentricity that would seem out of place in any other town the size of Calistoga, California if it weren’t another architectural displacement of the wineries that look like villas in Tuscany, castles in Bavaria and French chateaus. A Venetian palace fits perfectly and from the road is a delight to behold … I like to refer to it as the Gay Hearst Castle.
So the question, how did we stumble on this place? Like San Francisco, I get very excited when I come across something new in a place I am very familiar. Having gone school in the valley (1987 – 89), worked at restaurants in Calistoga (1993), and visited on numerous occasions since moving back to the Bay Area in 1994, it took a gaggle of women to first recommend seeing the ceiling at the Ca’toga gallery in Calistoga to get the juices going.
Frank and I had spent a long, relaxing weekend in Calistoga at a B&B and the ladies were also guests. On their recommendation, we wandered in to the gallery and got a glimpse of the “whimsy” and met Tony. Now whether or not “Tony” and the artist are together or if their relationship is purely a platonic working relationship is up for speculation. My nose, upon entering the gallery smelled “Gay” and after my initial greeting with Tony screamed “UBER GAY.” Again, he could simply be a stylish artistic type, with the short-slicked back hair, dark-rimmed glasses, starched shirt and an Asian demeanor. Or he could be a big homo.
Regardless, the gallery is impressive. The barrel-vault ceiling shows the Ptolemaic Constellations in all their mythological grandeur and is the perfect setting for the variety of work that can be purchased. Carlo creates items from murals, to dishes, candlestick holders, and some great paintings that feature Putinella (the clown from Comedia Del arte) … and of course, Tony, who will answer questions with statements like, “The artist, Carlo …” This is also where I saw the book on the house and the fact that during the summer season, tours were given on the property on Saturdays.
This would be a good time to take a glimpse at his website: www.catoga.com
I have great respect for Marchiori’s work and if the had the skills, the time and the property there are many ideas I would steal in a second. I digress. Frank and I ordered tickets and planned a day that would include the tour, lunch and then a visit to Berringer’s Winery for Frank’s wine club shipment. I spoke with Tony and got the low-down on timeliness and the fact that the tickets would not be refunded, nor was there a second tour, etc. We allowed plenty of time to get out of San Francisco and up to Napa Valley in time. San Francisco was buried in fog and it wasn’t until we got to St. Helena that the sun decided to break through and shine the rest of the day. One has to love the fact that within a 90 minute drive there can be a 20+-degree difference in temperature.
We got our tickets and drove to the house. Apparently the neighbors are not his biggest fans or are not fans of visitors. Homemade signs state that visitors should “SLOW DOWN.” As we crawled forward in first gear until we arrived at the twin columned gate mounted with two clown-head figures. Following the signs where to park we passed a very anatomically correct Rhino. I’m not sure if he was guarding the property are looking to mount some unsuspecting vehicle while the occupants were on the tour. This was our first glimpse that belied the pictures of the place.
Now Calistoga gets very dry in the summer, so the parched lawn is understandable. The vine-covered paths were also a bit dry. We had about 15 minutes so we explored the outdoor grotto that was covered with shells and probably is very impressive at night with candle lights and such adding to the magic – in the sunlight … it looked more like a drag queen on her way home in the morning after a night on the town; some things are better seen in the moonlight.
The first thing we noted was that the house appeared to be a structure with a façade put in place. The building looked old but the tin siding viewed from the side and back belied the initial view. At 11:15 Carlo opened the door and his assistant, a Pilipino boy (I’m not saying anything that would upset Tony), took our tickets and we entered the foyer which had an impressive mural of a God spewing water, quite possibly a homage to the Calistoga Geyser.
This is where I have to admit to being thoroughly impressed. The two-story vaulted room had giant murals that intermixed Asian motifs, classic god paintings and many references to Venetian masks and balls. On view was the Pompeii room, the library and two bedrooms upstairs. What made the adventure even more entertaining was the fact that Carlo told little stories and then basically said, “Explore.” I loved the canary bedroom, which if you closed the door felt like you were inside a birdcage with a giant cat looking in on you. A giant leaf of lettuce covered the window and a sign indicated that guests who stayed in the room were provided with canary-yellow pajamas. Not that I’m speculating anything … but how many “straight” artists would require anyone to wear canary-yellow anything. The fact that Carlo lives onsite and really was opening his home was also impressive.
Following our exploration of the house he took on a tour of the house and gardens. He has recreated a Roman bath, a Greek temple, a river walk and of course the afore mentioned grotto. Is he a single artist looking for love? Or perhaps just a man who has the means to follow his passions. Either way, Ca’toga is a worthwhile adventure and one you should look into if you are ever in Calistoga on a Saturday with time on your hands.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Where in the World?
Mom and Dad are in Albania and I can only hope that they will have a safe return. No news is the only news we've had and God knows that there are Internet cafes they could visit if they wanted to send us a message. I'm too young to be an orphan!
So while they are trotting around the globe, Frank and I are in the middle of planning out the rest of 2005. On the horizon the following trips are in various stages of planning.
So while they are trotting around the globe, Frank and I are in the middle of planning out the rest of 2005. On the horizon the following trips are in various stages of planning.
- Napa Valley - Day Trip including a tour of the Catoga mansion.
- Camping Trip - Guerneville, California
- Helsinki, Finland (including side trips to St. Petersburg, Russia, Tallinn, Estonia and possibly a jaunt to Stockholm, Sweden. )
- New York City, New York - Long weekend
- Puerta Vallarta, Mexico - Good John's birthday celebration.
That's it. Suprisingly there are not trips over actual holidays!
Getting Set for Russia
Can you list all of the countries you visited in the past 10 years? Do you know how to locate your supervisors of your previous two jobs - not including your current place of employment. If so, you can probably be confident that you could successfully complete a Visa application to Russia.
What drama. We are heading to Finland and one of the stops is a two+ day trip to St. Petersburg, Russia. We had to get a reservation and then a confirmation from the hotel, and then go to the embassy to grovel for a Visa. Joy.
What drama. We are heading to Finland and one of the stops is a two+ day trip to St. Petersburg, Russia. We had to get a reservation and then a confirmation from the hotel, and then go to the embassy to grovel for a Visa. Joy.
Monday, June 20, 2005
The June Get-Away
After scrimping and saving vacation time I feel like President Bush with collateral and an itch to spend. And since Edmond’s wedding provided the opportunity, I scratched the itch with a small extension to Eddie’s big day. I’m lucky that Frank enjoys the similar tourist activities, which made the time even more enjoyable.
In the course of eight days we stayed in three cities, met three relatives, visited one haunted house and of course waved hello to the afore mentioned President. He didn’t return the gesture, which I felt was a bit rude. More on that later. Let’s start with the Red Eye flight into Norfolk, Virginia.
There are Three parts to this Blog:
- Virginia Beach
- Williamsburg
- Washington DC
Photos:
- Edmond and Amy's Wedding
- Other Vacation Pictues - Short Version
- Other Vacation Pictues - Long Version
Virginia Beach, Virginia
Arriving at the airport, we were quickly reminded that we were not in Kansas anymore, let alone California. Having lived in a smoke free region for so long, it can be a bit shocking to see the smoking rooms still active alongside adds for the Pat Robertson University. Praise the Lord! Now pass the tobacco.
We got our car and made our way to the fine city of Virginia Beach. Of no fault of my own, I expected to see rows of rundown hotels from the 60’s with laundry and towels hanging from all of the balconies. This is the picture that Edmond had painted and maybe it was a description of the surrounding areas where kiddy pools are meant for cases of beer and not kiddies. I’m happy to say, I was pleasantly surprised and we had a really positive experience (See Edmond and Amy’s wedding for details).
Okay, so the wedding was over and we took the opportunity to sleep and to enjoy the town for an extra day. The white trash (WT) element is definitely there but it is tastefully done. Only when the locals zoom by on their modified bikes with giant handlebars did it become evident that the WT element is there. A little miniature golf at the Jungle topped off by several great meals made for a pleasant afternoon. We also had to do one touristy thing, a haunted mansion. Memories of being rushed through the haunted farmhouse outside of Walla Walla raced through my mind as we were moved through the dark passages, shot with air blasts and bumped into by the paid “haunts.” I screamed like a farm girl – I dare anyone to try not to!
It seems appropriate that we ate breakfast at a diner name, The Jewish Mother, since a Jewish mother (Amy’s) paid for dinner the night before!
We got our car and made our way to the fine city of Virginia Beach. Of no fault of my own, I expected to see rows of rundown hotels from the 60’s with laundry and towels hanging from all of the balconies. This is the picture that Edmond had painted and maybe it was a description of the surrounding areas where kiddy pools are meant for cases of beer and not kiddies. I’m happy to say, I was pleasantly surprised and we had a really positive experience (See Edmond and Amy’s wedding for details).
Okay, so the wedding was over and we took the opportunity to sleep and to enjoy the town for an extra day. The white trash (WT) element is definitely there but it is tastefully done. Only when the locals zoom by on their modified bikes with giant handlebars did it become evident that the WT element is there. A little miniature golf at the Jungle topped off by several great meals made for a pleasant afternoon. We also had to do one touristy thing, a haunted mansion. Memories of being rushed through the haunted farmhouse outside of Walla Walla raced through my mind as we were moved through the dark passages, shot with air blasts and bumped into by the paid “haunts.” I screamed like a farm girl – I dare anyone to try not to!
It seems appropriate that we ate breakfast at a diner name, The Jewish Mother, since a Jewish mother (Amy’s) paid for dinner the night before!
Williamsburg, Virginia
We had a date with Washington DC but enjoyed a couple of days in Williamsburg, Virginia. Frank was very excited to go to Colonial Williamsburg and I have to admit I was a little excited. We found our hotel, and then headed to the Visitor’s Center where we discovered 20th Century prices for a slice of the 1770’s. With high hopes, we walked into the past and wandered through shops, listened to stories of trades and gossiped about the Boston Tea Party that had just taken place. Lunch at the local tavern was just a preview for the evenings’ date with the King’s Arm Tavern – where I enjoyed Peanut soup, and a Apricot and Mustard-glazed Smithfield Pork Tenderloin, while Frank had the Colonial Game Pye – a combination of braised venison, rabbit, duck, vegetables, and bacon Lardoons (what the heck are Lardoons?) and this was enjoyed with the company of a precocious child, old enough to argue with it’s mother that it was indeed not sassing.
Now, I believe that McDonald’s has a place in the world and that people with children should discover that place or pull out the wallet and pay for a babysitter. I’ve been told that I don’t understand entirely what it is like to be a parent. I’ll grant that, but I also know that there is a time and place for everything and I should not be privy to the antics of a child in an adult atmosphere. They could have at least purchased a round of drinks for the people in the room that were subjected to the discussion.
Colonial Williamsburg is a treat. The buildings, the stocks (see Frank locked up below), all made for a pleasant, if not downright HOT afternoon. I picked up a gift for my niece Brianna and hopefully she doesn’t drive my sister crazy with rounding renditions of colonial songs on the tin fife. My favorite part of the day was our last tour through the Governor’s Palace
The next day, my cousin Michael drove down from Hagerstown to join us for a day at Busch Gardens – The Old Country. After a full meal at the Cracker Barrel, we took the ten-minute drive to the park.
I have fond memories of the place, since it was one of the stops we took as a family when I was in the 7th grade. There is an inter-locked looping coaster that was cutting edge at the time. It still is an amazingly well themed park with all elements contributing to some aspect of the “country” you are visiting. And instead of the typically flat theme parks in the bay area, BG is built on hills that are cut with a gulley and a man-made river, so rides that seem to disappear over the edge of the hills and often race straight toward the water before swooping back up in the air. Lunch in a giant beer hall was complete with an oompa-band and folk dancers. It was a great day and really good to catch up with my cousin.
After the park closed, Mike headed home and we searched for food and then … went to play another round of miniature golf located within walking distance of the hotel. It was so flipping hot at 10:00 at night that we had to have Dairy Queen blizzards to at least cool down our internal systems (sounds like a legitimate reason, no?).
Now, I believe that McDonald’s has a place in the world and that people with children should discover that place or pull out the wallet and pay for a babysitter. I’ve been told that I don’t understand entirely what it is like to be a parent. I’ll grant that, but I also know that there is a time and place for everything and I should not be privy to the antics of a child in an adult atmosphere. They could have at least purchased a round of drinks for the people in the room that were subjected to the discussion.
Colonial Williamsburg is a treat. The buildings, the stocks (see Frank locked up below), all made for a pleasant, if not downright HOT afternoon. I picked up a gift for my niece Brianna and hopefully she doesn’t drive my sister crazy with rounding renditions of colonial songs on the tin fife. My favorite part of the day was our last tour through the Governor’s Palace
The next day, my cousin Michael drove down from Hagerstown to join us for a day at Busch Gardens – The Old Country. After a full meal at the Cracker Barrel, we took the ten-minute drive to the park.
I have fond memories of the place, since it was one of the stops we took as a family when I was in the 7th grade. There is an inter-locked looping coaster that was cutting edge at the time. It still is an amazingly well themed park with all elements contributing to some aspect of the “country” you are visiting. And instead of the typically flat theme parks in the bay area, BG is built on hills that are cut with a gulley and a man-made river, so rides that seem to disappear over the edge of the hills and often race straight toward the water before swooping back up in the air. Lunch in a giant beer hall was complete with an oompa-band and folk dancers. It was a great day and really good to catch up with my cousin.
After the park closed, Mike headed home and we searched for food and then … went to play another round of miniature golf located within walking distance of the hotel. It was so flipping hot at 10:00 at night that we had to have Dairy Queen blizzards to at least cool down our internal systems (sounds like a legitimate reason, no?).
Washington DC - Three Days
I haven’t mentioned the fact that on this trip I was Miss Daisy being driven around. It was a most excellent situation to be in since I am typically the driver everywhere Frank and I go and to be honest, while I could drive in new places, it is very stressful for me and being a passenger was a pleasure. I could gawk at the sites without putting anyone’s life in danger.
In route to DC, we stopped and had lunch with my Aunt Hazel and Uncle Larry, then dropped in on an old high school friend of Frank’s, Dylan. Dylan lives on a lake and has an amazing collection of antique furniture, and a comprehensive list of typical tourist activities and a few items of things that are not on the top tier of activities that tourists must do. After meeting his boyfriend Will, we made plans to meet the following day and then headed to our B&B, the William Lewis House.
I have this notion in my head that I would like to run a B&B someday, so every time we stay at one, it becomes like a research project for me. What do they do well, what could they do differently, etc. Hmm. This was a learning experience. To put this in perspective, Washington DC seems to be going through a “gentrification” process similar to San Francisco, so areas that would have been off limits ten years ago are up-and-coming. My Uncle Larry mentioned that the location of our B&B was in one of the areas where, because of the color of our skin, might not have been the safest places to be after dark. Hmm.
So we drove into the city and as we headed up 14th street memories of touring the streetwalkers flooded my memory. My mother’s comments, that the girls were operating on the steps of the church spoke up loud and clear and then I remembered trying to turn around and getting stuck on a side street where the cars in front of us stopped and the folk of the neighborhood gathered around. We did not honk. We waited patiently. Eventually, our little family of four left the neighborhood with a lesson learned not to go down side streets. This is where we were going to be staying.
A lot has changed since the early 80’s and our street was safe. There was a solid gay influence and the 17th street (the primary gay district with cafes and shops) was only a hop, skip, and three clicks of our ruby covered slippers. We had to circle a bit but found the B&B and after much maneuvering parked the car for three days – opting to leverage the very efficient DC Metro and of course Dylan when he had time to tour us around.
The William Lewis House is spectacular with its vintage furniture, well-appointed rooms and such, but the B&B aspect of it is a little odd. The B&B has expanded from one building to two with a shared backyard and porch for common use. Breakfast was served in the other building from us and we had to make reservations for breakfast on Saturday and Sunday mornings. So far, so good.
We should have known that there were some quirks with the people who ran the place when we received an email that emphatically stated that we had not notified them when we would arrive. This clue would have better prepared us for the anal retentive details that marked the place. The front gate was labeled push here, close here. Signs about NOT eating in common rooms were prominently placed everyone. Don’t scratch the walls, don’t walk heavily, don’t talk loudly, don’t leave you stuff in the bathroom, this end of the shower door goes against the wall; this end goes to the other. I felt like I was being taught a new language – the language of what not to do. I realize that there are certain social reminders that would be useful, as guests are not typically sharing space or a single bathroom. The note on what to do if the water turned scalding seemed appropriate, but the barrage of notes and reminders at every turn did not say welcome, use common sense. AND my Virgo sensibilities kicked in when the inconsistencies presented themselves. Keeping areas clean is one thing, however, clean up the office area. The kitchen in our building was now serving as the “office” but it was stacks and stacks of paper. The back steps had yard supplies stacked. The dining area was not cleared of dishes from the morning and after a full day of sweating our way through DC; our room had not been cleaned when we returned at the end of the day. I say, hold up your end of the bargain.
I should state that both men also had “day jobs,” so the running of the B&B was a side venture and not their primary occupation. Still, with all of the notes around there wasn’t any indicator as to what to do with their dog – could we let her into the back yard? Should we keep her inside? What to do? Anyway, we did enjoy the idea of serving a “formal” meal on Saturday and Sunday at a specific time though we didn’t find ourselves necessarily friendly with the other guests. The bald know-it-all tried to hold court and be the wisdom dispenser to all the newbies. He gushed to the owners about such a fine establishment, he gushed about the bars, the events, and the events in New York and in San Francisco and when he wasn’t the center of attention ran off to the living room to read the paper. Frank gently reminded me that I probably wouldn’t like most of the people that walked through the door – if I ran a place, I’d have to keep that in mind. Hmm. Would I recommend the place? For the price and location, it served its purpose. Did I get warm fuzzies and want to send a thank you note … not on your life.
Day 1 – DC
Our first full day was spent at the Holocaust museum. I had been there about ten years ago when I went to fly Grandma Lois back home. At the time it was winter and the streets were fairly empty and barely contrasted with the skiffs of snow and wind. I remember the set up, where I was given an “ID” and then I followed my person through the museum, which started with the rise of the Nazi party. At one point, my person didn’t make it and the impact was profound. This visit still had the card but it was a summary and on the ride up the elevator I reviewed my person and his history before reaching the top floor, which took away from the impact and the personalization of the experience. It is still a moving experience but the difference now was that hundreds of students were pushing their way past, crowding the screen and working their way quickly through the exhibits. Some have asked, do I miss teaching? Nope. I’m glad those lovely little people were someone else’s responsibility and not mine. It is a good thing to have to keep my own self in check and not 30 other people at varying levels of maturity.
Afterwards, Dylan picked us up and to us to the Franciscan Monetary of the Holy Land. Now imagine if Walt Disney was a devout Catholic instead of an atheist and he built a recreation of all of the holy land sites and placed them in one location so that people who couldn’t afford to go to the holy land could still experience the sites. The gardens had recreated tombs, alters, Virgin Mary grottos, and a recreation of the church the St. Francis built. In the gift shop, you could purchase pictures of saints, blessed dog tags and collars, and any number of items including a limited edition of the Pope John.
Our tour began with one of the curators chatting away about the fully scale models of the areas and the mission of the people. Once he discovered that Frank and Dylan were from Texas he went into a diatribe about the people jumping over the border and of course, how they were now helping the economy. Hmm. What would Jesus do?
Anyway, a brother in official robes led us on the tour of the church, which included a replica of the holy site of Golgotha, Christ’s tomb, the catacombs, a dead baby saint semi-mummified and paintings of purgatory. References to the fact that the location of the real sites was probably safer than where we were seemed to indicate a bias toward the neighbors and was a touch judgmental. I love the fact that according to scriptures the distance between Calvary (Sp?) and Joseph’s tomb where Jesus was for three days was a mere 200 years apart from each other. Who am I do question someone’s mathematical equations – I taught English for a reason. It was a bizarre experience but one that I warrant is not on the top places to visit when in DC. After the Franciscans, we drove out to the Awakening (a man emerging from the ground) and the FDR memorial.
Day Two – Bike the Sites
Frank and I have both been to DC on numerous occasions and so did not feel compelled to see the typical sites. It had been recommended that we locate a tour group, which conducted their tours on bikes. We signed up for the three-hour tour and had a great time exploring the area around the mall. The Japanese Internment camp memorial was a highlight for me and reminded me of the book, Farewell to Manzanar, which I read as a sophomore in high school and later taught. Other highlights included the World War II memorial, the Korean War Memorial.
After the tour ended, Frank and I went to the Washington Hotel, which overlooks the White House and had lunch on the top deck. We waved at the George but he must have been busy with Tony Blair because there was no indication that he saw us or that he sent his personal greeting.
What trip to DC would be complete without going to the Smithsonian? Disney had just donated an original “Dumbo” and a “Tea Cup” for display and we saw Julia Child’s kitchen, Seinfeld’s pirate shirt and of course, Judy Garland’s ruby red slippers from the movie, The Wizard of Oz. At the National Gallery there was a Toulouse Lautrec (sp?) exhibit, which I found fascinating, though at that point my feet and body were worn out from the tour and the heat. It was time to head back home.
Local establishments were geared up for DC Pride and aside from the smoke, the people were friendly. I saw an ad about a drag show at a Ziegfields, so after dinner at Annie’s we jumped on the Metro and rose from the underground to a very unsavory area. The club was split into two large rooms and the show started at 11:30. Hmm. Let’s just say, I don’t think these girls would pass during the day but were fabulous in their own way. The crowd was an interesting array of young and old, men and women, and to be honest a good-looking crowd. We didn’t stay for the second show and opted to walk the well-lit route back to the Metro. The following day on the news, we noted, with some horror that someone had been stabbed at that station, thus validating Frank’s concern. Be aware of you surroundings.
Day Three – The Masons and DC Pride
Another recommendation from Dylan was to go the Botanical Gardens, the Native American Indian museum and the Light House at Alexandria – George Washington National Masonic Memorial. So, dressed to walk, we headed out and visited the gardens. The space outside of the glass house looks like it will be spectacular once the renovations are complete and the Indian museum (representing all of the Americas North and South) was well done. I appreciated the non-linear approach to the exhibits and found myself wandering into dead-ends and then backs out; a contrast to typical museum spaces I’m accustomed to. From there we traveled on to Alexandria and explored the seaport area, had lunch, then went to play with the Masons.
Dylan had set the stage when he told us that the collection included George’s false teeth and other artifacts, but he had not warned us that we would be held hostage to the Mason’s for an hour. Oy vey. Okay, I’ve seen a lot of pictures of good old George but never the 20-foot stature with him decked out with all of his Masonic symbols. It was interesting to hear about the “out” masons and the “closeted” masons and the fact that there have been 15 presidents who were also masons. Fair enough.
We arrived in time to participate in the final tour of the day and our guide looked like a mortician – well, a twenty-something dressed like a mortician. He had pasty skin and a broad smile and would quietly walk up behind and make a comment on something I was looking at. The first time he did this startled me completely. So, the tour. We got on the elevator and arrived at the first hall where a well-appointed display of George, the man, the farmer, the statesman, the general, etc., were displayed. Fine. Our guide, quietly asked if any of the “men” were masons? We all said, “No.” and he apologized for us. The next floor was a pseudo-biblical room with paintings of scenes from the Bible and ending with a recreation of the Ark of the Covenant. Did I mention the light show and audio voiceover that circled us around the room telling each detail? Creep. Let’s go up another floor! A chapel, complete with Jesus on the cross with … Masonic symbols. I’m feeling very uneasy at this point and we still have another room to visit. The top floor, which also has access to the lookout deck, is a miniature recreation of King Solomon’s throne room – little lion whelps lined the steps. We went out and saw the view and were ready to go down. Nope. Our tour guide was in deep conversation with one of the couples and pretty much made us wait. And wait. And wait. I’m feeling uneasy and claustrophobic. Finally, we were in the group that went down first, where he let us off in the darkened hall with the 20-foot George. All the doors were locked. Creepy. He finally gathered us up and took us to the basement where we finally made our way into the sun and waited for Dylan and Will to pick us up. Did I mention the entire experience was creepy?
Luckily the sights and sounds of DC Pride erased all that. Unlike our 4-hour plus extravaganza the parade was a small affair that lasted an hour. There were the dykes on bikes, the gay cops, a couple of bar floats, and my favorite was the clogging cowboys. Following the parade we had dinner and then headed back to the B&B for our last night in DC.
The vacation was a success overall, though, like all good vacations, I should have scheduled an extra day to recoup before heading back to the office. Oh well. Live and Learn.
In route to DC, we stopped and had lunch with my Aunt Hazel and Uncle Larry, then dropped in on an old high school friend of Frank’s, Dylan. Dylan lives on a lake and has an amazing collection of antique furniture, and a comprehensive list of typical tourist activities and a few items of things that are not on the top tier of activities that tourists must do. After meeting his boyfriend Will, we made plans to meet the following day and then headed to our B&B, the William Lewis House.
I have this notion in my head that I would like to run a B&B someday, so every time we stay at one, it becomes like a research project for me. What do they do well, what could they do differently, etc. Hmm. This was a learning experience. To put this in perspective, Washington DC seems to be going through a “gentrification” process similar to San Francisco, so areas that would have been off limits ten years ago are up-and-coming. My Uncle Larry mentioned that the location of our B&B was in one of the areas where, because of the color of our skin, might not have been the safest places to be after dark. Hmm.
So we drove into the city and as we headed up 14th street memories of touring the streetwalkers flooded my memory. My mother’s comments, that the girls were operating on the steps of the church spoke up loud and clear and then I remembered trying to turn around and getting stuck on a side street where the cars in front of us stopped and the folk of the neighborhood gathered around. We did not honk. We waited patiently. Eventually, our little family of four left the neighborhood with a lesson learned not to go down side streets. This is where we were going to be staying.
A lot has changed since the early 80’s and our street was safe. There was a solid gay influence and the 17th street (the primary gay district with cafes and shops) was only a hop, skip, and three clicks of our ruby covered slippers. We had to circle a bit but found the B&B and after much maneuvering parked the car for three days – opting to leverage the very efficient DC Metro and of course Dylan when he had time to tour us around.
The William Lewis House is spectacular with its vintage furniture, well-appointed rooms and such, but the B&B aspect of it is a little odd. The B&B has expanded from one building to two with a shared backyard and porch for common use. Breakfast was served in the other building from us and we had to make reservations for breakfast on Saturday and Sunday mornings. So far, so good.
We should have known that there were some quirks with the people who ran the place when we received an email that emphatically stated that we had not notified them when we would arrive. This clue would have better prepared us for the anal retentive details that marked the place. The front gate was labeled push here, close here. Signs about NOT eating in common rooms were prominently placed everyone. Don’t scratch the walls, don’t walk heavily, don’t talk loudly, don’t leave you stuff in the bathroom, this end of the shower door goes against the wall; this end goes to the other. I felt like I was being taught a new language – the language of what not to do. I realize that there are certain social reminders that would be useful, as guests are not typically sharing space or a single bathroom. The note on what to do if the water turned scalding seemed appropriate, but the barrage of notes and reminders at every turn did not say welcome, use common sense. AND my Virgo sensibilities kicked in when the inconsistencies presented themselves. Keeping areas clean is one thing, however, clean up the office area. The kitchen in our building was now serving as the “office” but it was stacks and stacks of paper. The back steps had yard supplies stacked. The dining area was not cleared of dishes from the morning and after a full day of sweating our way through DC; our room had not been cleaned when we returned at the end of the day. I say, hold up your end of the bargain.
I should state that both men also had “day jobs,” so the running of the B&B was a side venture and not their primary occupation. Still, with all of the notes around there wasn’t any indicator as to what to do with their dog – could we let her into the back yard? Should we keep her inside? What to do? Anyway, we did enjoy the idea of serving a “formal” meal on Saturday and Sunday at a specific time though we didn’t find ourselves necessarily friendly with the other guests. The bald know-it-all tried to hold court and be the wisdom dispenser to all the newbies. He gushed to the owners about such a fine establishment, he gushed about the bars, the events, and the events in New York and in San Francisco and when he wasn’t the center of attention ran off to the living room to read the paper. Frank gently reminded me that I probably wouldn’t like most of the people that walked through the door – if I ran a place, I’d have to keep that in mind. Hmm. Would I recommend the place? For the price and location, it served its purpose. Did I get warm fuzzies and want to send a thank you note … not on your life.
Day 1 – DC
Our first full day was spent at the Holocaust museum. I had been there about ten years ago when I went to fly Grandma Lois back home. At the time it was winter and the streets were fairly empty and barely contrasted with the skiffs of snow and wind. I remember the set up, where I was given an “ID” and then I followed my person through the museum, which started with the rise of the Nazi party. At one point, my person didn’t make it and the impact was profound. This visit still had the card but it was a summary and on the ride up the elevator I reviewed my person and his history before reaching the top floor, which took away from the impact and the personalization of the experience. It is still a moving experience but the difference now was that hundreds of students were pushing their way past, crowding the screen and working their way quickly through the exhibits. Some have asked, do I miss teaching? Nope. I’m glad those lovely little people were someone else’s responsibility and not mine. It is a good thing to have to keep my own self in check and not 30 other people at varying levels of maturity.
Afterwards, Dylan picked us up and to us to the Franciscan Monetary of the Holy Land. Now imagine if Walt Disney was a devout Catholic instead of an atheist and he built a recreation of all of the holy land sites and placed them in one location so that people who couldn’t afford to go to the holy land could still experience the sites. The gardens had recreated tombs, alters, Virgin Mary grottos, and a recreation of the church the St. Francis built. In the gift shop, you could purchase pictures of saints, blessed dog tags and collars, and any number of items including a limited edition of the Pope John.
Our tour began with one of the curators chatting away about the fully scale models of the areas and the mission of the people. Once he discovered that Frank and Dylan were from Texas he went into a diatribe about the people jumping over the border and of course, how they were now helping the economy. Hmm. What would Jesus do?
Anyway, a brother in official robes led us on the tour of the church, which included a replica of the holy site of Golgotha, Christ’s tomb, the catacombs, a dead baby saint semi-mummified and paintings of purgatory. References to the fact that the location of the real sites was probably safer than where we were seemed to indicate a bias toward the neighbors and was a touch judgmental. I love the fact that according to scriptures the distance between Calvary (Sp?) and Joseph’s tomb where Jesus was for three days was a mere 200 years apart from each other. Who am I do question someone’s mathematical equations – I taught English for a reason. It was a bizarre experience but one that I warrant is not on the top places to visit when in DC. After the Franciscans, we drove out to the Awakening (a man emerging from the ground) and the FDR memorial.
Day Two – Bike the Sites
Frank and I have both been to DC on numerous occasions and so did not feel compelled to see the typical sites. It had been recommended that we locate a tour group, which conducted their tours on bikes. We signed up for the three-hour tour and had a great time exploring the area around the mall. The Japanese Internment camp memorial was a highlight for me and reminded me of the book, Farewell to Manzanar, which I read as a sophomore in high school and later taught. Other highlights included the World War II memorial, the Korean War Memorial.
After the tour ended, Frank and I went to the Washington Hotel, which overlooks the White House and had lunch on the top deck. We waved at the George but he must have been busy with Tony Blair because there was no indication that he saw us or that he sent his personal greeting.
What trip to DC would be complete without going to the Smithsonian? Disney had just donated an original “Dumbo” and a “Tea Cup” for display and we saw Julia Child’s kitchen, Seinfeld’s pirate shirt and of course, Judy Garland’s ruby red slippers from the movie, The Wizard of Oz. At the National Gallery there was a Toulouse Lautrec (sp?) exhibit, which I found fascinating, though at that point my feet and body were worn out from the tour and the heat. It was time to head back home.
Local establishments were geared up for DC Pride and aside from the smoke, the people were friendly. I saw an ad about a drag show at a Ziegfields, so after dinner at Annie’s we jumped on the Metro and rose from the underground to a very unsavory area. The club was split into two large rooms and the show started at 11:30. Hmm. Let’s just say, I don’t think these girls would pass during the day but were fabulous in their own way. The crowd was an interesting array of young and old, men and women, and to be honest a good-looking crowd. We didn’t stay for the second show and opted to walk the well-lit route back to the Metro. The following day on the news, we noted, with some horror that someone had been stabbed at that station, thus validating Frank’s concern. Be aware of you surroundings.
Day Three – The Masons and DC Pride
Another recommendation from Dylan was to go the Botanical Gardens, the Native American Indian museum and the Light House at Alexandria – George Washington National Masonic Memorial. So, dressed to walk, we headed out and visited the gardens. The space outside of the glass house looks like it will be spectacular once the renovations are complete and the Indian museum (representing all of the Americas North and South) was well done. I appreciated the non-linear approach to the exhibits and found myself wandering into dead-ends and then backs out; a contrast to typical museum spaces I’m accustomed to. From there we traveled on to Alexandria and explored the seaport area, had lunch, then went to play with the Masons.
Dylan had set the stage when he told us that the collection included George’s false teeth and other artifacts, but he had not warned us that we would be held hostage to the Mason’s for an hour. Oy vey. Okay, I’ve seen a lot of pictures of good old George but never the 20-foot stature with him decked out with all of his Masonic symbols. It was interesting to hear about the “out” masons and the “closeted” masons and the fact that there have been 15 presidents who were also masons. Fair enough.
We arrived in time to participate in the final tour of the day and our guide looked like a mortician – well, a twenty-something dressed like a mortician. He had pasty skin and a broad smile and would quietly walk up behind and make a comment on something I was looking at. The first time he did this startled me completely. So, the tour. We got on the elevator and arrived at the first hall where a well-appointed display of George, the man, the farmer, the statesman, the general, etc., were displayed. Fine. Our guide, quietly asked if any of the “men” were masons? We all said, “No.” and he apologized for us. The next floor was a pseudo-biblical room with paintings of scenes from the Bible and ending with a recreation of the Ark of the Covenant. Did I mention the light show and audio voiceover that circled us around the room telling each detail? Creep. Let’s go up another floor! A chapel, complete with Jesus on the cross with … Masonic symbols. I’m feeling very uneasy at this point and we still have another room to visit. The top floor, which also has access to the lookout deck, is a miniature recreation of King Solomon’s throne room – little lion whelps lined the steps. We went out and saw the view and were ready to go down. Nope. Our tour guide was in deep conversation with one of the couples and pretty much made us wait. And wait. And wait. I’m feeling uneasy and claustrophobic. Finally, we were in the group that went down first, where he let us off in the darkened hall with the 20-foot George. All the doors were locked. Creepy. He finally gathered us up and took us to the basement where we finally made our way into the sun and waited for Dylan and Will to pick us up. Did I mention the entire experience was creepy?
Luckily the sights and sounds of DC Pride erased all that. Unlike our 4-hour plus extravaganza the parade was a small affair that lasted an hour. There were the dykes on bikes, the gay cops, a couple of bar floats, and my favorite was the clogging cowboys. Following the parade we had dinner and then headed back to the B&B for our last night in DC.
The vacation was a success overall, though, like all good vacations, I should have scheduled an extra day to recoup before heading back to the office. Oh well. Live and Learn.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Edmond and Amy's Wedding
A Priest, a Rabbi met at an art museum in Virginia Beach, VA, and the world became a bit more united as two families were joined together.
It seems like such a short time when I was privy to daily conversations that held the relationship together and now my friends, Edmond and Amy, are married. And I have to say, that for a pair of twenty-somethings, they did it right.
There has been a lot of anticipation for the nuptials and I am glad that Frank and I were able to witness the event, though it seemed a hello to the new couple and a goodbye to a time that is now past. Now their lives on centered on the east coast and one can only assume that the milestones will begin to mark themselves – thank you notes, babies, thank you notes for the baby gifts and so on.
Anyway, Frank and I took a red-eye flight from SF to Virginia Beach, VA and arrived a bit early for our Ocean view room overlooking the Atlantic. Since our room wasn’t ready we wandered down what I thought would be a white trash haven to a throwback diner, Pocahontas. Aside from the typically unhappy children, the Prom King and his entourage the meal, Belgium waffles and such was standard. However, the air of the past was present from the un-PC teepee themed decorations and the murals celebrating the arrival of the English. I'm sure Native Americans are bursting with pride by the fact that their images survey the feeding frenzy and gluttony of panckes, Belgium waffles, eggs, coffee, tea, etc. From the diner, we took a walk on the boardwalk and was pleasangly surprised by the immaculate beach, sidewalks, and well-maintained access routes.
Randy and Paul, Linda and Tom and of course Frank and I were the representatives from Franklin Templeton. The wedding was held at the local art museum and was gorgeous. There was a "Huppa" (Thanks anonymous commenter) and both a Priest and a Rabbi officiated. Eddie looked dashing in his tuxedo and Amy was elegant in her dress (There are links to a few wedding pictures below).
The gallery was beautifully decorated and the combination of ceremonies was quite satisfying. I enjoyed the Jewish elements and the personal touches were quite moving. In between the ceremony and the reception guests were moved into a side wing while the main hall was transformed into the dining/dancing hall. Linda had the girls on display and Frank and I managed to pull off the illusion of clothes that fit … time to get to the gym and off of the bonbons. By midnight, the couple car arrived and then they departed in a shower of rose petals.
How to end the evening? Hmm. Randy and Paul had scouted a “Family” establishment and it was tragic – though everyone seemed to have their teeth. And upon returning to the hotel, it seemed fitting that Randy gets accosted by a drunken mother/daughter duo propositioning him in the elevator. Surprisingly, he turned them down. Shocking. Really. Shocking.
Pictures of the event — Click here for a review of the happy event!
It seems like such a short time when I was privy to daily conversations that held the relationship together and now my friends, Edmond and Amy, are married. And I have to say, that for a pair of twenty-somethings, they did it right.
There has been a lot of anticipation for the nuptials and I am glad that Frank and I were able to witness the event, though it seemed a hello to the new couple and a goodbye to a time that is now past. Now their lives on centered on the east coast and one can only assume that the milestones will begin to mark themselves – thank you notes, babies, thank you notes for the baby gifts and so on.
Anyway, Frank and I took a red-eye flight from SF to Virginia Beach, VA and arrived a bit early for our Ocean view room overlooking the Atlantic. Since our room wasn’t ready we wandered down what I thought would be a white trash haven to a throwback diner, Pocahontas. Aside from the typically unhappy children, the Prom King and his entourage the meal, Belgium waffles and such was standard. However, the air of the past was present from the un-PC teepee themed decorations and the murals celebrating the arrival of the English. I'm sure Native Americans are bursting with pride by the fact that their images survey the feeding frenzy and gluttony of panckes, Belgium waffles, eggs, coffee, tea, etc. From the diner, we took a walk on the boardwalk and was pleasangly surprised by the immaculate beach, sidewalks, and well-maintained access routes.
Randy and Paul, Linda and Tom and of course Frank and I were the representatives from Franklin Templeton. The wedding was held at the local art museum and was gorgeous. There was a "Huppa" (Thanks anonymous commenter) and both a Priest and a Rabbi officiated. Eddie looked dashing in his tuxedo and Amy was elegant in her dress (There are links to a few wedding pictures below).
The gallery was beautifully decorated and the combination of ceremonies was quite satisfying. I enjoyed the Jewish elements and the personal touches were quite moving. In between the ceremony and the reception guests were moved into a side wing while the main hall was transformed into the dining/dancing hall. Linda had the girls on display and Frank and I managed to pull off the illusion of clothes that fit … time to get to the gym and off of the bonbons. By midnight, the couple car arrived and then they departed in a shower of rose petals.
How to end the evening? Hmm. Randy and Paul had scouted a “Family” establishment and it was tragic – though everyone seemed to have their teeth. And upon returning to the hotel, it seemed fitting that Randy gets accosted by a drunken mother/daughter duo propositioning him in the elevator. Surprisingly, he turned them down. Shocking. Really. Shocking.
Pictures of the event — Click here for a review of the happy event!
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