Category: Travels

Spiteful Stuff

Okay, everyone harmonize. This will be a self-pitying blues ballad. Sing along if you want.

Some days I feel like the universe hates me. It’s not really mean, just spiteful. Exhibit number one.

The week before leaving to take care of family business on the East Coast, we were shopping. The wind wrenched the door out of my hand, slamming it into the car beside me.

There weren’t witnesses. I could have driven away.

I could see a small ding on the crease line. The Hyundai Elantra wasn’t a new car but a recent year. From the tags, someone had recently purchased it.

My deductible is a grand. I knew this would be less than a grand. I wrote a note, apologizing and providing my contact information. As it happened, I came out as the other drive was leaving. She hadn’t noticed the ding or my note, so she drove off, saw the note, parked and got out to look. I hurried up to her and talked about it.

Now, back home, I’ve received the bill: seven hundred forty dollars for a parking lot ding. Ouch.

Exhibit number two.

I had four flights scheduled for my trip, covering the travel there and back. There were all with United Airlines. I took two of those four; the rest were canceled or missed because the flight before it was late. I ended up on six flights, total. I was re-booked on four flights that were cancelled.  None of the flights took off on schedule. None arrived to their destination on schedule. One hundred percent failure in both of those areas.

I spent one night in the SFO airport going, and a day there coming back. I was supposed to be in that airport for about two hours, instead of eighteen.

One flight that I took was a re-booked flight to cover one of the cancellations. Going through Chicago, they couldn’t provide me a seat number for the next flight. “See them at the gate when you get there.”

We did that. The first agent told us we didn’t need another boarding pass or seats. We would use the same ones, and the same seats.

He was wrong.

The next agent got us seats but we weren’t together. We couldn’t get seats together. That was another recurring theme in this flying fiasco. Originally booked side-by-side, it took a lot of cajoling, talking and visits to agents at the gates to make it happen, and it failed sixty percent of the time.

So, the universe and I aren’t getting along well right now. I don’t think it’s me, personally, that’s making the universe spiteful. I think it’s weary of the world’s bullshit as much as I am. It’s tired of trying to be reasonable in the face of insanity. I understand, in a way, but I don’t like it.

To the universe, please let me know what I need to make it up to you. I’d really like to return to being on better terms with you.

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Air Future

Just imagine.

“This leg of your journey is sponsored by Progressive,” a soft voice states in your head as you stride along the beach. Progressive agents clad in their white and blue uniforms approach you with a smile and a tray of drinks.

“This is the life,” you say, accepting a glass of wine as a sea breeze and sunshine caresses your face.

You’d never believe you were flying thirty thousand plus feet above the earth, would you?

That’s the point.

Marketwatch posted a piece about air travel and passengers’ dissatisfaction with one another. As a result, most folks don’t like air travel. Instead of being a pleasurable method to go from one place to another, it’s become a gritty, exhausting experience.

So says me. My issues aren’t with the other passengers but the airlines. They cut services and space, increase ticket prices, improve their profit margins while customers like me and my wife suffer more and more. See, the older you become, the harder it is to wedge yourself into a tiny space.

Marketwatch did note that the airlines might be blamed for the rise of the irritating passengers.

“Why do planes seem to bring out the worst in people? “Planes are more crowded, seats are smaller, connecting times are shorter and amenities are growing more rare,” frequent traveler Nic Lesmeister told The Wall Street Journal in October, all of which stress passengers out and, experts say, may contribute to the bad behavior.

“He’s onto something. As MarketWatch reported in July: Airlines and plane manufacturers are reconfiguring planes to fit more people on them, shrinking (and in some cases eliminating) bathrooms, creating seats that don’t recline, and reducing the amount of legroom and the amount of padding in seats.”

Yeah, you think? IMO – you knew I’d have one – airlines need to do some quick fixes. Like what? Virtual reality, of course! Issue googles or glasses and plug us in as we enter. Create a different reality, something we’d like, to trick us into believing we were enjoying ourselves, rather than enduring a flying hell.

Yes, I know, costs, costs, costs! But with irritating passengers and air travel by volume on the rise, something needs done. Just think of the advertising potential. Flights, or segments of flights, and, or, aircraft could be sponsored by companies who would pay for the rights, like they do with sports stadiums. Companies could also bid for the naming rights for just the terminals, to help offset costs, and increase profits. Just imagine hearing them announce your six AM boarding call by saying, “Now boarding United Flight six seven three in the Home Depot terminal at the Red Lobster Gate. Flight six seven three is brought to you by Kellogg’s. Kellogg’s – the best to you each morning!”

Before and after your virtual interlude after seating yourself on the flight, your virtual reality sponsor can make an announcement. “This flight is made soothing by Verizon. Verizon, giving you the best world on the horizon.”

Come on, airlines, throw us a bone. Use some imagination and technology. Make it easier to for us to cope with one another and endure you.

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Today’s Theme Music

We listened to a lot of music while I was stationed on Okinawa in the early 1980s. Drank a lot of beer, too. Smoked a lot of cigars, played a lot of Risk and worked a lot. We also went to college.

Anyway, back to the music thing. The Internet wasn’t around. CD players and Compact Discs were just emerging. For reference, the hot new computer was the TRS 80.

So we played a lot of vinyl, recording it onto more portable, user friendly formats. One album that came out then was Foreigner 4, by Foreigner. Several hits were on that album, including this song, ‘Juke Box Hero’. Later generations and listeners might be familiar with the song through its commercial use.

Stream it in your head as you’re walking around dreaming of heroes and villians.

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Food Trip

Winter has worn me down. I feel it in my palate. Snow has dissipated, the ice has faded and the temperatures are rising. (We’ve seen over fifty degrees Fahrenheit two days in a row!)

A little town fever is settling in. Town fever is just like cabin fever. It’s a sensation that you just got to do something different. The walls are slowly collapsing. The ceiling is sinking and beginning to crush me. And yes, I know the town has no physical ceiling, but it’s this sense grabs you that, “OMG help me I’m gonna go nuts where can we go to get the hell away from our routines and tedium now now NOW?” 

freedom-mel-gibson

I began simply, thinking, Grants Pass is just forty-five minutes away by speedy auto. We can go there, do a little strolling about, eat somewhere – wasn’t there a new place recently opened?

But I’ve been to Grants Pass not long ago. It’s a nice city but not the balm for this itch. My move floated toward Eugene! 

Eugene, just about three hours away and three hours back, is doable. We’ve done it a few times every year, just a little escape to shop, walk around, and…you know…eat somewhere different than our usual Ashland haunts. Mind you, Ashland has good food, and we can escape to Talent, Phoenix, Medford and even Jacksonville to find some relief.

But this is a mad, mad itch. Corvallis would be even better than Eugene. Or Bend! 

Oh, Bend. Now we’re talking. Bend is a more difficult day trip. Though the snow has diminished here in the valley, getting to Bend will probably require us to traverse some snow and ice. But there are so many great places in Bend, places like Next Level Burger.

nlb

Hmmm…burger. Cheeseburger, with a beer and fries. Deschutes Brewery is located in Bend.

mirrorpond_new

Oh, yes.

That would scratch my winter itch.

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Sunshine Blogger Award

I love winning something out of the blue, especially when it comes from someone admiring or appreciating what you’re putting out there. Thank you, Mel Hopkins! I enjoy her blog, and the attitude she exhibits through her words. Please check her out.

This sort of thing takes me out of my comfort zone, so it’s taken me a few days to respond. I prefer not to have attention. I know, it’s odd for someone who writes and posts things on the net to also like privacy and anonymity. It’s all as clear as mud mixed with sand and oil to me. Disclaimer aside, here we.

Here are the rules:

·         Post the award on your blog

·         Thank the person who nominated you

·         Answer the 11 questions they sent you

·         Pick another 11 bloggers (and let them know they are nominated!)

·         Give them 11 questions

I have to admit, when dealing with eleven questions, I kept flashing back to ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’ and the Bridge of Death.

 

Mel presented us with eleven questions about travel. Here are the questions she posed, and my answers.

  1. How many countries have you visited in this lifetime?

Twenty-two.

  1. What is your favorite country? Why?

I can’t choose a favorite country any more than I can select a favorite book, food or piece of music. My desire for each and appreciation for them shift with my moods. I’d need to visit each a few more times to gather more information. If I had to say today, I would say, Wales, because I’ve never been there.

  1. What is your favorite travel haunt?

Such a difficult question. I lived in Half Moon Bay and remain partial to it, with the amazing food opportunities, its delightful downtown and great ocean scenes, so I will declare Kelly Beach in Half Moon Bay, with a good book, a San Benito House deli sandwich, and cookies from HMB bakery.

  1. In your travels, what is the oddest tourist attraction you’ve seen?

Well…that would be the Dick Bar.

Yes, we were crass but we were military and this was around 1989. This was a bar high on a mountain in Sicily. It was a gorgeous location, with views of Roman amphitheater and fort ruins, Mount Etna, and the tip of Italy’s boot.

We called it the Dick Bar because phallic systems were everywhere – walls, as décor on tables, for sale in glass cases…did I mention the walls? The phallic symbols were made of stone, granite, wood, marzipan. Walking up the steps was a challenge because an erect phallic symbol stuck out from the wall on each step. The steps, with a high riser and narrow tread, would’ve been a sufficient challenge without worrying about getting a pecker in the ear.

It was a great place. We sat out on the roof drinking Italian red vino for several hours, until the owner cut us off for fear of one of us falling down the steps.

  1. How many states, (or provinces, territories) have you visited in your home country?

Thirty-three, that I can remember. To be fair, I traveled by car often, so some of these were merely rest stops or visits to scenic overlooks.

  1. What was your favorite travel destination in 2016?

The ocean, whatever ocean I can find, wherever I find it.

  1. Where will you travel to in 2017?

Plans are on hold due to personal issues. We want to take a train from Vancouver, BC, to Quebec City. Our fingers are crossed that we’ll be able to pursue this, or take one of the tours offered by Roads Scholars.

  1. What’s your favorite transportation mode of travel?  Planes, trains, automobiles, bikes, motor home, cruise ships?

Car. Traveling by car has a romance and freedom I experienced when driving with my parents across the country.

  1. Do you prefer physical adventure travel such as hiking, camping, mountain climbing or relaxing by the pool or beach?

I like reading by the beach, preferably with a glass of wine or a pint of beer.

  1. Hot or cold weather travels?

Give me warm weather, please.

  1. How far have you traveled from your home base?

Well, my home base shifted around the United States and the world throughout my life. The longest travel done in one day was from southern West Virginia to St Louis, MO, and on to Okinawa, Japan, by way of Alaska, via car and aircraft.

Now, I must nominate eleven bloggers and notify them. 

Hmmmm…. This is the toughest part of the entire exercise. So many deserving bloggers out there. I also tried eliminating previous winners.

Thomas Weaver at North of Andover

JR Handley

Elizabeth Rose

Ed Lehming at Ed Lehming Photography

Marcus at Survivor Road

Daniel Kay at This is Youth

Gigi at Rethinking Life

Kecia at Muninn’s Memories

Kent Wayne at Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Jenn Moss at Rough and Ready Fiction

And now…their questions:

  1. If there is one food you can eat every day, what would it be?
  1. What’s your favorite libation?
  1. What’s your secret favorite all-time movie, that you could watch over and over?
  1. Is there a song that makes you cry?
  1. What is the best book you think you ever read?
  1. Is there a year that you considered the most wonderful year of your life? Why?
  1. Where would you like to spend more time in 2017?
  1. What actor/actress in any forum, medium or era do you think is greatly unappreciated?
  1. Please name us one fictional location you’d like to visit, and tell us why.
  1. Skittles, Milk Duds, M&Ms or Junior Mints?
  1. If you could be a professional athlete, what sport would you choose?

If you’ve already received this award, congratulations! Carry on, regardless.

1

The Trivago Myth

I was watching ‘Wild Boys’ on Hulu last night. I don’t pay the extra for commercial-free viewing. Since I don’t have cable and watch little OTA, I’m curious about what’s being presented via commercials. I like seeing how the styles change, and enjoy mocking their messages.

Trivago was a big advertiser. Do you know of them? Trivago.com is another travel booking site. They begin by noting that the average American views seven travel sites before making their reservations. This is, they claim, because prices vary so greatly.

That is advertising bullshit.

After seeing the commercial five or six times, I decided to prove it this morning.

I’m not doing anything scientific or deeply insightful. I simply used Trivago, Travelocity, Expedia, Coast Hotels and Priceline to compare prices. My dates would be January 17th-19th, one room, no children, two adults. I would check one of my preferred hotels when staying in Portland, Oregon, the Benson Hotel. The Benson Hotel is a Coast Hotel, and that’s why it was included.

Did the prices vary widely, as Trivago claimed?

Hell, no. All of them quoted $152 per night.

Hotels.com: $152.

Hotwire.com: $152.

That’s what I expected. I’ve traveled for years. I’ve listened to the spiels through the years and I’ve tried every travel site. I’ve risked the auctions of Hotwire and Priceline. What I’ve learned is that there are not great deals; the prices are all the same. If anything, I think I could make a case that the travel site industry is colluding to price fix. I might be able to sue them for fraud for their claims.

While checking Travelzoo.com’s pricing, I saw their hot deal for the Mark Spencer: $134 a night on my travel dates. Hurry! they said. This sells out fast.

So I went to Hotels.com. Their special deal is the Mark Spencer: $134 a night on my travel dates. Eleven hours was left on this ‘Daily Deal’, which was twenty-five percent off.

Well, let’s look at the Mark Spencer on Priceline: $149.

Damn. That throws my theory out the window.

I went to the Mark Spencer Hotel site and discovered they would charge me $140. Then I circled back around to the Trivago.com site, to see what they presented me for the Mark Spencer.

Their deals, from Expedia.com, CheapTickets.com, and Hotels.com, showed $140. Booking.com offered a room for $149 through Trivago. Odd, then, that Trivago didn’t manage to find and offer the great deal that Hotels.com and Travelzoo offered.

What I’m curious about is whether I’m an exception, and whether others have noticed these things. Because, frankly, I’m tired of the Trivago ad selling their myth.

All of this demonstrates to me that once more, buyers beware.

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A Momentary Lapse of Reason

You’re hungry and you’re in the middle of nowhere. The morning walk took you to places that you didn’t expect. But that was the plan: you wanted to surprise yourself.

Well, you have. Look east, south, north, west – baking hard cinnamon and sand toned ground. Far away to the north are low purple and blue mountains. Turning west, you see the sparkling Bay Dome, so you think yourself there, specifying, downtown Palo Alto. Your bioworks connect with your wetworks and even out here, five bars are experienced. Your thoughts are translated into digits, which become transmitted commands, and the Earth Teleport System takes you to the bay area. In effortless seconds, you’ve gone from one place to another.

It’s a beautiful day under the dome in Palo Alto, blue and sunny, a little chilly in the shadows with hints of burned off fog. Electric cars hum along University Avenue but most people are strolling. Designated as a California Historic City, it’s unchanged since the early twenty-first century. Finding a Peet’s, you think, I’ll have a latte and croissant. The order has been placed before you enter the cafe and the systems direct you to the table along the window where your beverage and pastry await. A cup of tea and a shot of espresso appear on the table’s round surface. As you realize friends are arriving, they’re asking via your friendnet, “Can we join you?” Laughing, you answer, “Your drinks are already here.”

They port in. Hugs are exchanged. Books and art are discussed. “There’s a new art gallery opening in Mars New York,” Silvie says. “Want to go?”

Yes, of course. You’ve never been to Mars so this will be a special treat. Enjoy the gallery, have a meal, maybe do some dancing. Should others be invited? They are via the friendnet.

Soon, you have a platoon of friends, destination, Mars. You all port to the Interplanetary Teleport System in Utah. Signs direct you to the various space station and planet plazas where you can port yourself off of Earth to these other places. There are also teleport stations for bigger domes – Paris, London, Moscow, Sao Paolo – where stricter controls are required to visit these city states. But you’ve been to all of them, and the Moon. You’ve never been to Mars. You’ve always had a fear of flying, and as you aged, you thought, I’ll never see Mars.

But, wow, technology is amazing. So here you are, one hundred years old and retired, the prime of your life, really, off to Mars for the first time, at last.

All for just twenty-five dollars.

4

Sentimentality and Nostalgia Win in a Landslide

Purging tee shirts today, and shorts. I have many of both, old and frayed and worn, that never escape the drawer. They often no longer fit, because I am no longer that size.

But there is a Pink Floyd tee shirt from the Momentary Lapse of Reason tour. What a party that was. What was it, 1988? While stationed in Germany. We partied with Germans and Czechs. Man, hard to believe it was so long ago. I was a different person then. Well, I’ll keep it, even though its collar has partially separated from the shirt’s body, the colors have lost their luster, and the underarms are holed. I’ll keep it.

Also, the tee shirt celebrating Mark Donohue and the 30th anniversary of the Porsche 917-30, which itself was over a decade ago. That’s in good shape but small, a keeper. Also a keeper is the Australian Grand Prix shirt from 2000. My boss, a good friend, bought it for me. I was supposed to accompany her to Australia. We were doing clinic trials for a new medical device for treating chronic total occlusions, but plans were changed at the last minute and I didn’t go. But she remembered how I’d been going on about racing in general, and the Formula 1 race was going on that weekend, turning the place into a carnival, so she bought the tee shirt for me. It’s never been worn. I haven’t seen Laura in ten years but I remember her brightly as one of the best people I ever worked for and a sensational friend.

Michael Schumacher in a Ferrari in the rain is kept. That was his first year with Ferrari after he won two WDC with Bennetton. A red tee shirt from an Iowa writing conference is kept, and another, from a writing conference in Portland, is kept. My LeMans tee shirt is kept. This tee, although drained of life, celebrates Mario Andretti’s final year of Indy car racing. To the keep pile. The Steeler AFC championship shirt from my brother-in-law must be kept.

The tee shirt from the race course formerly called Laguna Seca is also kept. It has the old configuration on it. We ‘won’ passes from the Marlboro people when they were doing a promotion on Moffett NAS. I phrase it as ‘won’ because they gave us the passes after enjoying our company. That was when? Well, Marlboro sponsored Penske, and Al Unser Jr, Emerson Fittipaldi, and Paul Tracy were the driving line-up. 1994, a year before I retired from the USAF, that was the weekend the late, unique Randy stole a golf cart from a track official and drove it around because he was tired of walking. Blue, the tee doesn’t fit, but it’s the thought that counts.

In the end, the thought counts for a lot. The Goodwill pile is much smaller than the pile to return to the drawers. But these shirts, with their smells and rips, shrunken and frayed, are better than photos. I’ll die someday. An estate sale will be held or my wife or relatives will come through and look at these shirts. Those who know me will know what they’re about, and why I kept them.

The rest will just have to wonder.

5

I Am A Writer, I Write

As a writer, I have opinions on many topics. I scrutinize and judge just about everything. I think about politics, values, experiences, events, issues, history, arts, books, food, beer, wine and coffee, sometimes deeply, sometimes intelligently, but often sort of vacuously. Just ask me about something. If I don’t have an opinion immediately available, I’ll create one, because not only do I write, but I write fiction. Hence, I’ve come to write reviews on Travelocity.

It’s been going on a few years, and it’s not under my name. My origins as a reviewer are obscure. I suspect a place either pleased or annoyed me and I wanted to share it with the world, because, see the post title.

And then they kept hitting me up. Do you have more to write about? Why, yes, I do. I don’t write often, though, and I try to be careful. Five stars are not given. Five stars means something close to magic has been experienced. I think too many people too quickly issue five stars. But then, ratings are based on experiences and expectations. If you eat at McDonald’s everyday, other places can quickly seem like fantastic food, and if you sleep on wood, a decent mattress is amazing. I imagine ratings also have the same sort of immediacy and experience auras encountered in performance reviews, too.

So I write reviews, trying to say more than, wow, was this place great, or crap. Travelocity encourages me, “Hey, wow, you’re a level 2 reviewer,” (I think that’s what it said), “and your reviews have been read by 13,000 people.” My writing ego was impressed. Then it tells me, “20 found them helpful.” Twenty, from 13,000? That throws my ego under the truck. “You have 300 followers.” Well, it’s someone.

But I still like writing the reviews. Because — see the post title.

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Familiars of our Past

A carpet of fog was rolled in with majesty in the afternoon’s middle, and that was it. Sunset decided not to show and sunrise didn’t get up. Twenty miles an hour sea breezes stretched the Stars and Stripes into a snapping fabric panel and tortured our hair into brambly messes.

We were in Bandon.

The fishy fresh smell from tides, ocean and piers hooked its fingers up our nostrils and jerked us in – again and again, often eliciting, “Whoa, I’d forgotten that smell,” that sort of primitive and unfiltered smell associated with small coast towns we’d lived in and visited. Sea sprays blended with mists to coat us with salt and sand.

Bandon was a step away from our first world existence of dry and hot Ashland, but it was further than we expected in technological miles. While the hotel room had a flat screen tv, coffee maker, frig and nuker, the things required and expected for the modern American urban traveler, the wireless connections were spotty and phones never acquired a signal. Your experience may vary.

Sunshine heralded our arrival, so we were absurdly hopeful about how the visit would go. We used that time on the first afternoon to stroll the beaches past Facerock while the tides were out. Imagination easily informed us, we are the first, we have discovered a new territory and ocean, thinking about what it must have been like for the first humans to travel that way and look out on the powerful sea.

Returning to Bandon’s Oldtown, we wandered the windy streets, unchanged from two years past, save businesses had closed or moved away. Menus were perused. Food offerings were the same as before, basic pub grub and seafood offerings. Without knowing the reasons for it of season, month, weather or day of week, the streets were usually free of other souls. Waiting to eat was only encountered for breakfast on the second day, as one eatery was closed for repairs and the other was closed for good, reducing where to eat breakfast by almost fifty percent.

There wasn’t even a Starbucks, Dutch Bros, or Seattle’s Best, for heaven’s sake.

No, those places are not my first choice when traveling but their ubiquitous availability has become a meter for how far from the norm we’ve gone. It’s odd to find a place in America without these places. Nor were there fast food places, except for Subway. Other than a Dollar Tree, the chains have not found Bandon. That would have been wonderful, if Bandon exuded more charm. It was like visiting an aged movie star who no longer knows who they are.

A wallet of money and credit cards were found on the First Street sidewalk the second day, requiring a visit to the police station and foisting worries about the person who lost it on us. Hopefully they’ll be re-united with their wallet. Then we drove up coast to Coos Bay. Heading back down, we missed a turn and ended up in a state park, which was cool. A coyote trotting down the road was encountered. We stopped and gawked. He gave us a glance and veered away, disappearing into the forest. But there he was again on our way out, giving us a longer, more appaising gaze as he traversed the forest along the road. Being romantics, we thought encountering him was significant. Some precious web time that evening was spent trying to determine what his appearance meant to us, and which of us it was meant for. I believe he was a messenger telling us to let go of the past and pad into the future.

Those are the highlights. Bandon, we decided, needs a new tide, a new wind. Despite the sea breezes, the town is in the doldrums. Perhaps it’s as they wish, a nostalgic visit to a fading past. It did recharge our batteries, sooth our anxieties and blow out our stresses, as was our desire. Visits to the oceans do that for us, though, and there are other coast towns to visit.

It’ll be a while before we return to Bandon.

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