Anniversary Mania

Tomorrow will mark the tenth anniversary of the death of Princess Diana. Many who know me know that as a hobby, I enjoy studying pre-mid-20th Century European royal history. However, it ends there. As sad as her passing was, I have always believed that had she worn her seat belt that night, she would be here to continue the freedom she had just begun celebrating after her subsequent divorce and new found success as the "People's Princess". Not to be cynical. It's not at all about that. I mourn for her children and truly believed she would have done so much had she lived. It was a mistake. A mistake that unfortunately, Diana paid dearly for.

Many have already been asking that time honored question - Where were you when you heard of her death? My story is probably a bit unusual. I had just returned home, shook up, because I had been in the subway when a person fell to their death in front of an oncoming train. The mayhem which ensued after that incident rattled me so much I canceled all plans and went home. I happened to turn on the TV and saw the breaking news about Diana. It was only several minutes later when they came back on and announced she had died. What an interesting contrast of events that night. Two deaths. One nameless, another famous.

The next day, as I lay flowers at the doorway of the British Embassy here in New York, I stepped back, and began to really examine the chaos and ghoulishness occurring in my midst. I left with feelings of regret that I had even bothered to get involved with such a nonsensical faceless outpouring of grief. To this day, I cringe when I see any impromptu displays of memorials at accident sites and the like. I have nothing against those who choose to participate in the creation and/or adoration of them, and I certainly would never think poorly on those who do. But, I came to believe that the money that was poured into buying flowers, candles, and stuffed animals to adorn doorways and the front gates of palaces, should have instead poured into the bank accounts of the charities Diana had worked so tirelessly for.

In the mean time, I won't be around for all the fanfare of the tenth anniversary of her death. We're visiting dead relatives and their previous homes for mom's genealogy hobby. Anyone who knows me knows that I loves me my Boston. If I had to, I'd move in a heartbeat and never look back. Something about the city vibe, mixed with those classic New England sensibilities, runs deep within my soul. I am a New Yorker, but ethnically, I am New England.

Another plus side of the trip is that last year when we visited, I didn't know about the NPS Passport program. Bummed that I missed out on an opportunity for many stamps after the fact, I'll be able to play catch up. Now that I've got my mother addicted, we'll make the rounds along the Freedom Trail. Trust me, we're not going out of our way considering most of the cancellation stops coincide with the areas we need to be.

So bye for now! We've got a lot planned and it looks like beautiful weather will be on our side.

Playing Catch Up

Please excuse me while I play catch up here. Last night, I managed to add four new successive posts. I also added another I had composed awhile back, but for some reason couldn't commit to. To be honest, at first glance, it didn't have the proper flow I was looking for in an entry. My friends and family won out because this is a blog about what the hell I do with the spare time I allege never to have. I had another look, cleaned it up, and decided to run with it. It's titled "Pushing Issue", and can be found in the July archives (or by clicking on the provided link).

Sometimes, I'll begin a post and save until later when I have the time to add more palaver, or clean it up a bit before sending it off to the public. Because of this, and as with the case of some of the more recent posts, the entry falls under the date stamp in which it was originally first created. Even if that means several weeks ago and one has to search for it.

All Romanovs Accounted For!

Exciting news! Just this past week, the media was reporting of the possible discovery of the remains of the two missing children of the ill-fated last Emperor and Empress of Russia.

For those of us on the royalty forum, we were given a bit of a head's up ahead of time about a possible discovery. Despite the conclusive evidence of DNA testing, according to those "in the know", these are 100% the positive remains of the children.

Just today, after logging on to the forum I regularly visit, what should my wondrous eyes be greeted with? A positive confirmation that these remains are in fact those of Tsarevich Alexei and Grand Duchess Maria (or Anastasia if you follow the opinions of the US and British forensic teams).

It was 10th grade Social Studies when I first learned of the tragic story of the last Emperor and Empress of all of Russia, their children, and the horrible fate they faced at the hands of the Bolsheviks. The story struck a chord with me, probably due to the fact that at the time none of their remains had been discovered, and Russia (then the Soviet Union) was communist and completely closed off to the West. This mystery managed to seep into other facets, such as the story of Anna Anderson, who became famous (or rather infamous) through her claims that she was the Grand Duchess Anastasia. A fantastical fairy tale loaded with intrigues. It was from the Romanov's that I moved on to other European royal houses and settled into a most unusual hobby - studying the social aspects of pre-20th Century European royalty. Just my luck. I can't even get a job with that kind of useless ka-knowledge.

In 1991, shortly after communism fell and the Soviet Union reverted back to its original name of Russia, the news was full of reports about the discovery of the remains of the Imperial family in Yekaterinburg. For those who supported Anna Anderson, her case looked somewhat plausible when during the exhumation, only five members of the Romanov family were found. Two of the Imperial children turned up missing. It was years later when DNA testing became the norm that with the help of current members of the European royal families (Prince Philip of Edinburgh's being one of them), the Yekaterinburg remains were confirmed and Anna Anderson's claims were disputed. Her DNA did not prove to be a match against that of the Imperial family.

For years the question on every one's mind was, "Where are the remains of the other two children"? Confirmed missing were the Tsarevich Alexei and his sister Grand Duchess Maria or Anastasia.

And now. Today. Here we are. Using the original notes of Yakov Yurovsky, the man who carried out their murder, scientists were able to detect exactly where to find these babes. You may wonder why it took so long. Yurovsky wrote two sets of notes. The first set, written in the 1920's were very detailed. Realizing how much information he was giving away, Yurovsky re-wrote another set of notes somewhat disguising the places of burial. The original set sat in Soviet archives while the revised notes were released. Several teams have tried to find the remains of the children using Yurovsky's original notes (released in the 90's), but to no avail. This time, a team was able to locate them using "metal detectors and metal rods as probes, not by digging".

Just last September 2006, Nicholas II's mother, the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, was brought from her native and country of exile, Denmark, to be re-buried. Laid to rest back in Russia next to her beloved husband "Sasha", Tsar Alexander III. This was in accordance to her wishes. Currently, there are two empty spaces waiting in the Peter and Paul Fortress. Now, there is a serious possibility that soon, the remains of the two Imperial children will be placed in their respective places among their family, and all will finally be allowed to rest together in eternity.

It Sure is Grand

So. After trawling through all my photos, and trust me there were tons of them, loads of nice ones at that; I have finally committed the ones I deemed worthy enough to web posterity.

I've said this already to a few people, but the Grand Canyon doesn't take a bad photo. In fact, walking up to it, you actually squint your eyes in disbelief thinking that you are looking at a portrait. It's like one huge gorgeous photo backdrop. In the same vain as those 1970's nature backgrounds families would pose in front of at Sears and Olan Mills photo studios. Only better. Trust me when I say this because I didn't show up with any of the photographic accouterments one might when they visit such a hallowed spot of fantastical nature. Even a disposable camera would have reaped the same visual rewards. I arrived with an outdated Kodak Easy Share 3.1 mega pixels digital camera. Probably a step or two above a rinky-dink camera phone, if you ask me. Hardly something you would see a professional toting around. My problem is that I buy for size, preferably as tiny as possible, as anything clunky could possibly give me away as an ignorant tourist. Imagine that. A tourist at the Grand Canyon! What an anomaly!

However, I will confess that I have been keeping an eye my cousin H's blog to gain a bit more knowledge and perspective about the nuances of composition. Her photography has helped me tremendously and I am always grateful to learn from her. Otherwise, if left up to my own devices, you would see some very uninspired, off center, and out of focus experiments in pseudo-artsy snapshots which wouldn't quite make the mark; nor earn a place in a photo album for that matter.

What bothered me greatly is that I had to put a flame under my ass in order to commit my snapshots to a cyber-album. What's really been going on is that for the last week I have been feeling quite uninspired. Possibly lazy. Jet lagged is more like it. They say that it takes a day for each day you were away for your body to recover. Since my spirits have picked up exactly a week from the day I got back, and that I spent the next two days after my arrival in a constant state of slumber, that estimation sounds about right. Now out of my Rip Van Winkle rut and with my circadian rhythms in check, I have made a possible full recovery and now must tend to the deeper things in life. Like catching up on the latest episodes of Big Love and a whole week of the Howard Stern Show. I have priorities, you know!

Like I stated previously, the trip was a major success. Despite all of our head numbing problems with US Airways, our trip exceeded any expectations we may have had going in. After hearing many poor reviews from the other tourists, a last minute decision was made to cancel our plans to visit the Skywalk. As for the hotels we stayed at, they couldn't have been any better. I was a bit suspect of the Grand Canyon Inn which is located in Valle, AZ. I couldn't help but think, an "inn/motel" in the middle of nowhere, and a bit further from the town of Tusayan and the Grand Canyon. However, it turned out to be more than satisfactory. I would definitely recommend he place tto others.

I bought a beautiful Zuni Bear pendant from one of the Indian Trading Posts situated on the premises of the hotel. All of the jewelry I purchased was Native American made. There were Trading Posts just about everywhere you looked.
I also discovered a delicious regional candy bar, Christopher's Big Cherry. Anything with a maraschino cherry in the center is an immediate favorite of mine!

There was an odd sight across the street from the hotel. The Flintstone's Bed Rock City Camp Ground. Truly a stone age experience. It reminded me of the opening scenes of a 70's horror flick. A somewhat faded, abandoned relic trying to operate as if it were still basking in an infinite heyday. Come to find out, it was actually hopping busy on the inside, behind the stone wall. The store on the premises looked as if it had been frozen in time. We stopped to eat at Fred's Diner, where the menu gave each dish a stone age appellation. Turns out cactus juice is fruit punch and lemonade mixed together. No wonder Fred Flintstone is overweight.

Our time at the Grand Canyon will go down in history as one of the most successful family vacations, ever. Arriving very early, we lucked out with a most excellent parking space. Right there at Mather Point. From then on, good use was made of the shuttle buses provided to visitors free of charge. Making sure to stop at as many points as possible, I will confess that I made sure to stop at all the points where I could get my NPS Passport stamped. Apparently, there are seven stamps in total around the park. I think we got about six of them, missing the North Rim where we didn't visit anyway. Mom was curious about the program, bought the NPS Passport book, and is now a cancellation stamp addict!

I can't even begin to explain the sheer beauty that is the Grand Canyon. In a continuation of our new found lucky streak, we saw probably everything Mother Nature wanted to present that day. Committed to photograph are puffy heavy rain clouds, distant storms, lightening, and rainbows. All without a sprinkle in our direction. The last hours of the day were spent at Yaki Point to watch the sunset. The sheer beauty on view as the sun is coming down is absolutely stunning. This is where I feel that pictures can't fully capture the colors of the canyon. Shades of purple, pink, and other pastels settle all over the landscape and you find yourself seriously grasping for words to describe what's in front of you.

The next day was spent finishing up the rest of the canyon. We saved the parts where a car is a necessity for last. The weather was agreeable up until we finished and then it rained for a bit. No problem. It all worked out for the best and we were able to take it easy the rest of the day. Plus, we would have to rest up for our next adventure.

Our day trip to Nevada started out a little wonky. We took a wrong turn at Kingman, AZ and continued on to our destination via California. Not too much of a problem as it was just slightly out of our way. Things got a little worrying while driving U.S. Route 95 north through San Bernardino County. The gas tank was low and we were on a very long stretch through the outskirts of the Mohave Desert. With no gas station for miles, nor towns for that matter, I did a silent count of all blue colored help boxes placed on the side of the road should the need to utilize one arise. Heading into Nevada we reached a gas station and some semblance of human civilization. A short time later we were at the Hoover Dam.

I have to admit I was pretty impressed with the Hoover Dam. I didn't think I would be and was secretive about my opinions until we arrived and were proved wrong. Man is Nevada HOT! H-E-double hockey sticks hot. Nothing made us happier than to get back to the comfort of vehicular air-conditioning. Another NPS stamping station was located down the road closer to the Lake Mead National Recreation Area. When we called the information center to confirm the location, we were told they had just closed up but would stamp some pieces of paper and leave it out for us to take. We were eternally grateful for them going above and beyond the call of duty. Thirty minutes later had us in Las Vegas driving on the strip.

We're not really a gambling family, although I did want to try out the slot machines. Just for the heck of it. On the first try, I managed to win a whopping $12.40 playing penny slots at the Hard Rock Cafe & Casino. I chose that specific casino because mom likes to buy a t-shirt from each Hard Rock she visits. I was happy to have insisted that we make a pilgrimage to Vegas. Mom admitted later that she was glad to have gone as well.

The rest of our time was spent exploring Flagstaff and Sedona. Not to mention, all that driving we did. Being from the Northeast, it's unusual to drive such lengths without seeing towns or human beings. Coconino County, where we spent most of our time is roughly three times the size of my home state of Connecticut and only consists of about twenty-five towns. Arizona vegetation is not verdant, but it is interesting to those who aren't used to desert conditions. Facing another prospect of delays on our flight home, the Flagstaff airport was kind enough to contact us and arrange a taxi cab to Phoenix in order to catch our flight home. I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason, because on the drive down, we were finally able to see actual stereotypical cactus. The ones with the arms, like they show on television.

I can't repeat this enough. It was an incredibly successful family vacation. We were able to see so much considering an entire day was lost. The best part of it all was seeing how happy my mother was and the excitement of being there with her while having her dream vacation come true.

My shopping tally for this trip?

*Various postcards (as I collect them)
*Magnet with Grand Canyon scenery
*Fred Harvey Desert Tea (delicious!)
*4 Christopher's Big Cherry candy bars (which I promptly ate within a few days of returning)
*Kokopelli Sweet Lucy Arizona red table wine
*Twig deer pendant/necklace
*Zuni Bear pendant/necklace
*Malachite pendant and matching earrings

There are four photo albums, separated into easy to grasp categories.

Our 1 1/2 days at the Grand Canyon.

Our day trip to the Hoover Dam and Las Vegas.

Our visits to Sedona and Flagstaff.

Plus, a miscellaneous album for those holiday snaps that just didn't seem to fit anywhere.

Bon Voyage, Friends

I'm so unbelievably jealous right now. My good friend D and his girlfriend are heading off Monday on a ten day cruise to the Baltic region.

I should be writing this post in green because that is what I'm feeling right about now. Green with envy.

I should be in the Baltic right now (stomps feet, crosses arms, and purses lips together).

How could someone I know be going to these hallowed places before I do!? And all at a cost of a night's stay in a fashionable hotel room.

You lucky ducks!

Copenhagen, Denmark. (I've been planning that trip for eons!)

St. Petersburg, Russia. (Oh, I am so gonna plan a trip and show you! Just you wait and see!)

Someday. Someday.

As you already know, the above rant is all in the name of fun and I wish you two an excellent trip.

Please do flash a thought through your head for me as you are walking up The Jordan Staircase in the Winter Palace.

Have a safe trip and remember to post pictures!

If You are Going to San Francisco...

Make sure it's for an actual trip and not just some random layover for your intended destination.

If I can offer you any words of advice, it would be this. DO NOT. I repeat. DO NOT -- fly US Airways. Ever. I'm serious when I say this. What US Airways did to us, should be factored into the Geneva Conventions. I swear, people in Gitmo might just have it a skosh bit better than the passengers who fly on US Airways do.

Seriously.

The original plan was supposed to be this:
Fly to Charlotte, NC
Connect to Phoenix, AZ.
Connect to Flagstaff, which would be the last leg of our flight leaving and arriving the same night.

However, this was never to be.

Our flight started out delayed, then, even more delayed. Needless to say, we missed our connecting flight to Phoenix. Airline representatives were at the gate, each with new tickets for most of us passengers who were on board. In our unlucky lottery, we got a new itinerary. It sucked, royally. In the morning, we would fly to San Fransisco, connect to Phoenix and finally connect to Flagstaff. Okay, we thought, resigned to our fate, and as we went to retrieve our luggage, discovered that it was already en route to our final destination. "It will be there way before you arrive", promised the US Airways representative. She was kind enough to throw each of us a bone in the form of a complimentary toiletry kit. Gee. Thanks. Angry, frustrated, and weary eyed, we reluctantly agreed. I grabbed up the special slip for "distressed passengers" which landed us discount hotel accommodations. We took a taxi cab to the only hotel that would accept us so late, and converged on Waffle House, the only option open in the vicinity to fill our starving bellies. Thankfully it happened to be situated right next to our abode for the night.

Waffle House were the only ones who came through for us that night.

The next morning, worried and still reeling from the night prior, we left for the airport on barely a night's sleep, and in the clothing we wore the previous day. You would think that after all that trauma things would run a bit more smoothly, right? Wrong. Again, the flight was delayed. However, luck was on our side in a weird kind of way for our connection in San Francisco because the flight to Phoenix was delayed as well. However, it too bit us square in the arse because arriving in Phoenix so late caused us to miss our connection to Flagstaff. This elicited screaming fits from my mother and I towards the gate staff. Luckily, we were able to catch another flight, but at a cost of another delay.

Finally, when we arrived at our destination, we discovered that our luggage was missing. After slightly boiling under the pressure of all that US Airways threw at us, I finally lost my cool. We headed to Target for some new clothing and toiletries. I figured that if worse came to worse, we could survive on just two outfits for the entire trip, making sure to wash our clothing each day. On the way to the checkout counter, we got the most glorious call ever. I mean the kind of glory where the heavens open up, bright rays of sun shine down, and fat nude cherubs wearing silky white banners descend playing harps and trumpets. It was the airport announcing that our luggage had finally arrived.

Now we could proceed with our most anticipated trip to the Grand Canyon and its environs.

Luckily for us, the rest of the trip went swimmingly. Although we had missed an entire day, we managed to make do with the rest of our time and have an excellent time.

It Was More Funner During the Strike

The dog days of August are upon us, and the city is sweltering hot. News reports last week predicted an end to the heatwave we were experiencing. It finally broke, giving us the most glorious weather -- for one day. Mother Nature decided to fool us yet again and continue her vicious cycle of heat and humidity. As an additional "Fuck y'all!", she added severe rainstorms to the mix, and they aren't removing humidity from the air.

I woke up this morning to chaos. More problems from the water building. Nothing new, I thought. Apparently, the city's plumbing was overwelmed in some spots, including ours. The pipes burst in the mid-section of the building, spewing water, plaster and other mysterious matter all over the hallways. From the top to the bottom - every single floor. Thankfully, the apartments were okay. It wasn't until I got to the subway station when I realized the problem was much more severe and not unique to my building. No trains.

The crowds swelled on the platform, still, no trains. Commuters began pouring in, and with no more room down below, gathered in the hallways and sat on stairs. It wasn't until the situation was almost to the breaking point when we were informed the entire subway system was down. Forget buses, which were packing people in like sardines and skipping stops. Forget cabs, which were already using the buddy system to reach final destinations. Finally, I resigned myself to the fact that I would just have to walk to work. This wouldn't be too bad, right? Wrong.

I tried to imitate the camaraderie of a few years ago as best I could when the MTA went on strike during a December cold snap. My memories of those few days are of being bundled up and cozy in my goose down coat and Hush Puppies boots, all comfy and assured that I could take what the MTA wanted to dish out to us. Today, however, after the tenth block; stupid pedestrians amok, sweat pouring down my back - I had enough. I wasn't built for hot weather. On Madison, I overheard one person on her cell alerting whomever that the Starbucks on 36th was closed due to plumbing problems, inducing head shaking and eye rolling spasms on my part. By the time I turned that corner, an unbearable fishy sewage smell permeated the air, and I knew that Starbucks had more problems on their hands than they were ever going to realize.

I managed to get to work and greet the slow drizzle of co-workers coming from distances far beyond where I commuted from. What a day. I can't wait for vacation.

A For Effort

The past few weeks I had been getting frustrated that I hadn't received my grade for my class yet. It's interesting to remember how confident I was about the class I took last semester. How I simply waited for the transcript to arrive in the mail, confirming what I had already suspected, the wonderful A we all cherish so greatly. ESC's website has an odd and maze-like interface. In order to get from point A to point B, one has to log in and out of several different screens. So, after much searching around, I accidentally stumbled upon the final letter grade for the Native American history class that recently came to a close.

I got an A.

I should be happy, and on a lot of levels, I am. However, as I discussed previously, I'm not 100 percent certain I feel I earned it. In the professor's eyes, I did work hard. I confess that I turned in a mean paper, which the professor stated was "a very creative, well-written and timely research paper". He also pointed out that my sources were "very interesting". True. It's not everyday one finds such publications titled "Counselling the Inupiat". Not to mention, even though I missed a few class discussions, the majority of the ones I contributed to I gave well thought out responses. I feel anyway.

Nevertheless, I should look at this as a learning experience and respect the academic slump I was in the last few months and stop being so hard on myself. If I were such a piss poor student, like I was convinced I was, I wouldn't have got the grade I did.

Now I can order my transcript in confidence, have it sent off to my future Alma mater, and hopefully, get the credit towards my intended degree. At this point, I just want it over with.

Grand Canyon, Here We Come!

Both the flights and hotels are booked. Whoosh! I can now let out a huge sigh of relief.

My mother, brother and I are flying out of the city into Flagstaff, AZ on August 10. We will return in the wee hours of August 16. Those overnight flights coming back from the West coast are an absolute killer on the human body. At least I'll have all day Thursday to recover. The hardest part of planning was finding a hotel. Booked solid. We happen to be travelling during the busiest season, so thankfully, I blocked out a ton of rooms at several different hotels for various dates. Just to be on the safe side. Now, we need to weed out which is which, and then I can cancel some of those bulk reservations. The search for a rental car is Mom's responsibility, but since finding the hotels was kinda hers too, I might have to step in to get the ball rolling - yet again. Sigh.

Our original goal was to fly into Las Vegas and then fly out of Flagstaff. That way, we could get a taste of Vegas and hit the Hoover Dam on the journey into Arizona. Due to airline prices and the way car rental costs skyrocket when you return to a different airport, this plan was sadly, not doable. However, since we have an extra day to play with, there might be room for a day trip. Right now, it's a big "we'll see".

We have a lot to think about and much to plan. It's going to be interesting to be visting a state that has the second highest concentration of Native Americans in the US. I wonder how Mom will fare? For once, she will blend in! We're pretty low key travellers, so rafting trips and the like are out of the question. Hiking excursions will be pretty much just long walks. Much of it for photo ops. I'll need to brush up on the flora and fauna we will experience as well. Okay, I know we won't have a problem, but the headline "Mountain Lions and You" which is in the Grand Canyon visitor's guide, does freak me out just a skosh.

There is so much to do in that decent amount of time. The sights, the shopping, and all that driving. I definitely want to drive on Route 66 for a bit. I got to experience the route in Santa Monica, CA, which is the official end point. That was so cool. Yeah, I confess, I'm a bit corny about stuff like that. Plus, I'll get to exercise my NPS Passport book. Ooh, more geekiness!

The itinerary is still in the beginning stages, but I'm sure many plans will be finalized on the flight over. And, quite possibly, when we are there.