Photos of New Orleans

Our trip to New Orleans was both busy and relaxing. It was a time for family to come together and enjoy the closeness.

With all the traveling I've been doing lately, one would be shocked at how inexpensive the weekend turned out to be. As always, there are added expenses (buying bottled water at tourist prices, etc), but for the most part, we really economized this time.

We stayed at the Courtyard Marriott on St. Charles Avenue. It was perfect in every way. Nestled inside of St Charles Avenue, but a block away from the French Quarter, it was also near to all the public transportation needed to maneuver the city. We had access to the hotel's whirlpool jacuzzi, which was a welcome sight coming back tired and weary after all those long days.

The cost of our entire hotel stay, with all the parking charges included, came to $145 each when split three ways. The cost of flights came to a little under $500 total for both my mother and I. JetBlue offers a discount for students through ISIC that I took full advantage of. Since my aunt drove in, she was able to pick up and drop us off at the airport, saving us more. Although we ate well, and a lot, no alcohol was consumed. This helped keep the costs down tremendously.

Would I visit New Orleans again? Hard to say. As much as I loved it, I'm content with all I'd seen there. I'm not ruling out another visit, just had my fill of the city for awhile.

As for photos, of course, I took tons of them. You can find them here. Enjoy!

Day 3 - New Orleans

September 6

It was our last day and we wanted to take the ferry across the Mississippi River to Algiers. Actually, we didn't visit Algiers, just took the ferry there and back, for the ride. Once we returned, it began to rain again, so we popped into the French Market for a looksie. In the midst of the downpour, we noticed a car parked outside with its sunroof wide open. We stopped for drinks at the Market cafe until the rain stopped and immediately headed back into the French Quarter. We had run out of things to do and were now just walking around aimlessly, people watching and admiring the amazing architecture. I wanted to visit the Voodoo Museum, so we stopped in.

Dinner was on Royal Street at a place called the Royal restaurant. Aside from Mother's, this would be the best meal we had all weekend. I had a seafood casserole that was to die for. The service was amazing enough to call the manager over to compliment our server.

I couldn't leave New Orleans without one last stop at Cafe du Monde and insisted on going one more time, much to the chagrin of my mother, who wasn't feeling the beignets and cafe au lait. My aunt was game, but even I had to admit we were milking the experience for all it was worth. It wasn't as memorable as our first visit, but it still hit the spot.

We all called it an early night because we would have to leave early the next morning. After getting everything together and packing our things, my aunt and I decided to slip out to enjoy Banana's Foster at Brennan's, the restaurant where the dessert originated.

The next morning, my mother and I said our goodbyes to my aunt at the airport and left New Orleans. Thankfully, our flight arrived landed at JFK early. For a long weekend break, this visit was perfect. The city had been on my to-do list for a very long time and finally, I got to visit. Because it was tied into a family visit, I will always have fond memories of New Orleans and everything I experienced in my ample time there.

Day 2 - New Orleans

September 5


We had a bit of a sleep in today. After the early morning and long day of touring on the previous day, it was much welcomed.

Our day started with a ride on the Riverview streetcar, getting off at the last stop. We walked towards the Marigny district. My aunt pointed out the apartment building my uncle used to live in. It was a great neighborhood and reminded me a bit of the West Village. It began to rain so our plans to fully explore the Ninth Ward were waylaid. Of the parts we did manage to see left an imprint in our heads and hearts. The city is still rebuilding, but it seems this area is still not getting the attention it needs.

Now tired, hot, and soaking wet from the constant downpours throughout the morning, we managed to grab a bus back into the city center.

The weather turned around for the best, and after freshening up at the hotel, we hopped the Charles Avenue streetcar towards the Garden District. Despite it being incredibly hot and humid, we enjoyed all the beautiful gardens and stately Southern homes.

Tired out from a day's worth of walking, we took the streetcar back into the city center and headed back to the French Quarter for dinner. My aunt and I were feeling adventurous, but my mother, being the most basic eater I think I know, wasn't feeling the Louisiana cuisine. We settled on Pat O'Brien's restaurant because the menu had more agreeable items for her palette.

Southern Decadence was still going strong, and we weren't at a loss for entertainment. The religious nuts crashed the party and caused a bit of trouble, but didn't manage to incite the crowd, who were all too happy to poke fun. Despite this the Quarter was jumping with crowds out to celebrate. I saw the two cutest two month old ponies with dollar bills stuffed in their harnesses, and finally got excellent photos of both Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral at night. The one of St. Louis Cathedral was eerie, with a full moon and the shadow from the statue of Jesus completely covering the church.

Our hotel had a jacuzzi and thankfully, I brought a bathing suit. I certainly needed it by now. The next day was our last full day to explore, but sleep beckoned.

Day 1 - New Orleans

September 4

Our day started early, with little sleep as our flight arrived late the night before. We didn't get into the city until after midnight and bedtime came much later after walking a bit of Bourbon St.

Breakfast was at Mother's, recommended by my aunt. It was delicious, the portions huge, and some of the best coffee I've ever had. I suggested NOMA to get it out of the way. Of course I found a Romanov angle to this trip. NOMA houses a Faberge exhibit full of imperial belongings. The official eggs are no longer there, having packed up and continued on to their next place of residence, but there were plenty of other Faberge curios to marvel at. What disappointed me was that some of the information cards had incorrect information. For such a historical exhibit, one certainly could get the birth year of the last Tsar correct, no?

Afterwards, while walking to the bus stop on Esplanade, we happened by St Louis cemetery #3, which was roughly a block away from the museum. It was my first introduction to the famous burial grounds in New Orleans and fascinating as well. We eavesdropped on a tour guide and learned a few things we hadn't known before. Afterwards, we caught the bus downtown and watched the scenery go by, marveling at the gorgeous shotgun houses that dot the city. A few were still in need of repair after Hurricane Katrina.

We got off at the bus stop near to St Louis cemetery #1. This is the most famous of the city's cemeteries, and busy with tourists too. When we thought we were done looking around, I stumbled upon a grounds keeper giving an impromptu tour. My original suspicions were laid to rest when more and more people he corralled had joined the group. I had heard about the cemetery being unsafe without a tour group, and at first, was wary of this stranger beckoning us around the corners of mausoleums and into the little nooks and crannies of the maze-like grounds. It turned out to be the most fascinating tour, especially from someone who worked there. I left with a better perspective of the inner workings of this cemetery.

Because we were now weary and exhausted, it was decided right then and there to head down to the French Market to Café Du Monde. If you don't stop here on your visit to the city, you haven't really visited the city! The beignets, while cheap (our bill came to a whopping $10 for two coffees and three servings of beignets), were decadent - and so delicious.

With satisfied bellies (and clogged arteries), we walked around the French Quarter. Southern Decadence was going on this weekend so we got more than an eyeful. I loved every single minute of my time spent in the French Quarter. The fun, the beautiful architecture, the people watching - there was never a dull moment.

While eating breakfast at Mother's a local helped us out and suggested we eat dinner at Mandina's. Since it was recommended by a local, we jumped at the chance. However, it turned out to be our worst meal of the trip. Couple that with waiting almost an hour to get there by bus, and you had an unhappy bunch.

We turned in late, I was exhausted and needed the sleep. The city was hot and humid, not a good thing for me who favors the cold.

Getting Nearer to NOLA

So, the flights have been booked and the hotel is reserved. I bought my Streetwise map of the city and we're ready to go. Now, I'm just researching where to eat for three whole days - and then some. In New Orleans, food is big business.

Also, I'm bummed out about one thing. I may not get to see any Fabergé eggs at the NOMA, as they are out on the road touring. Still, there are some Fabergé items there and that will still be exciting. But, it seems to be the story of my life these days.

It looks like there may be three of us in New Orleans this Labor Day weekend instead of two. After e-mailing my aunt to request any NOLA tips and recommendations, she responded back a few days later asking if it were okay to join us. No problem! We could always make this a family get together. Besides, she has already visited and has previously knowledge of the city.

My brand new suitcase is on its way to being completely packed and it's sitting there collecting maps, articles, and various other items I don't dare want to forget. For a major discount, I bought a Travelpro 19" rollaboard from their discontinued Walkabout Lite 2 line. It's the most perfect thing I needed for a carry on. Yes, this will be a carry on only affair. At least for me, anyway.

As we are getting nearer to NOLA, I'm getting much more excited. Lately, I feel as if I'm not exploring much of my own country and this trip is certainly a welcome re-introduction to all that.

Gilded Day

Still can't get over the beautiful weather we've been having lately, especially this past Memorial Day weekend. Sunday, I spent the better part of the day at my aunt's house for a family BBQ. Although I missed seeing my father, I still had a fabulous time. Monday, instead of hanging around my mother's house, we picked up my cousin and headed to Newport, Rhode Island to tour some of the historic summer homes of the Gilded Age. My cousins had given me the heads up on which houses to visit, which was great because up until then, I could only think of The Breakers as being the highlight of the area.

Given that we had a late start (if you know my mother you'd understand), there was only enough time to tour a few of the homes. We chose the "Breakers Plus" package which consisted of a tour of The Breakers and one other house. On my cousin H's advice, I had wanted to tour Marble House, but we decided to use our other ticket to visit the Green Animals Topiary Garden instead. To our surprise, we weren't asked for our tickets, so we could then go back to Marble House and take the tour.

The Breakers was, in a word, lavish. What I learned later was that the Vanderbilt family still visit the home, but stay on the third floor, away from the tour groups. The grounds of the home are gorgeous with an incredible ocean view. This structure is considered the epitome of the Gilded era and anyone visiting can see why. It's one of those places where you can't imagine anyone living there, even in the bedrooms (which tend to be plain in most of these types of homes).

Marble House came as a complete a shock because unbeknownst to me, it was the home of the infamous Alva Vanderbilt. Anyone with an deep interest in New York City history (like myself) knows about her and the cultural structures she brought to the city; namely the Metropolitan Opera House (created as an alternative and a snub to the stuffy, long gone Academy of Music). Marble House was sad due to the history of the family who dwelled there. What was also disappointing to learn was that unlike The Breakers, this home was only used for a short time and served the purpose of storage for many years. An ostentatious waste.

Our "free" visit consisted of a trip to the Green Animals Topiary Garden. We didn't enter the home on the grounds, but wandered the garden marvelling at the topiaries. There were an assortment of animals (tame and wild) and other goofy sculptures. My favorite probably had to be the elephant. I would have loved the giraffe but he/she was looking a little on the sickly side.

To top this wonderful day off, we had dinner at the Red Parrot. I'd like to go back again to do a proper tour of all the homes. However, this was a wonderful excursion and a fantastic way to spend such a beautiful day.

Photos of our day are here.

Mother/Sister's Day

Yesterday was the day to come out of any winter coma I may have felt I was stuck in. You couldn't have asked for better weather. More importantly, my younger brother's college graduation ceremonies were also held yesterday, on Mother's Day. Admittedly, it was filled with the most bittersweet feelings because, forced to be a built-in-babysitter pretty much from the day of his arrival, sometimes I am more his mother than our own.

Putting those feelings aside, I managed to have a great time and turn the accolades into a joint effort. Meanwhile, the remainder of the day was spent with the other side of my family basking in the sun, expending zero energy, with the knowledge that the next day the weather would turn to crap.

Plymouth Part Deux

This past weekend, we did the rounds again traveling to Plymouth, MA and spending a day at the Cape as well. It was a trip re-deux to make up for previous missed opportunities. When we visited last year, my mother had been in the throws of a serious illness and forgot much of the trip.

Being creatures of habit, upon our arrival to Plymouth, we hunkered down at the Cabby Shack for some excellent grub. Mom had the chunky clam chowder, which I wished I had ordered. As for our hotel, we stayed at the Best Western. Unfortunately, as my mother originally was led to believe, it wasn't right on the water. Yes, a few somewhat walkable blocks away, but not really. Still, the rooms were spacious and lovely. The breakfast was filling, with a make-your-own-waffle station. None of that continental breakfast crap.

The rest of the weekend was filled with making the rounds of landmarks that are requisite if one is visiting Plymouth and the surrounding environs; Plymouth Rock, Plimouth Plantation (yeah, I spelled that right!), and The Mayflower II. On Saturday, we focused solely on the Cape, driving route 6 all the way to the end, Provincetown, and passing through several other quaint towns. We saw a lot of dunes, and while we arrived at the tail end of cranberry season and missed the bogs, got to actually see some cranberries still clinging for life on the bushes. Some stopping points were several National Park Service areas (for cancellation stamps), and a climb to the top of the Pilgrim Monument - by way of about 160 stairs and ramps combined.

The foliage was nice, but seriously lacking in some areas. The best spots were seen from the highway, so there was really no way to stop the car for photo ops.

On our last night in town, we ate at The Weathervane, which can be hit or miss at times. I was hoping they would have the stuffed flounder in a creamy lobster sauce, which was delicious the last time we visited. They weren't offering it, but I went with the stuffed haddock (offered without sauce). Mom ordered the haddock too and chose Mac & Cheese as one of her meal sides. We were both seriously disappointed when they brought out Kraft Mac & Cheese. Yes, I kid you not. It was actually Kraft Mac & Cheese!

Heading back to CT, we stopped off for a bit in Providence, Rhode Island at the Roger Williams monument (yet more stamps!). The weather was beautiful and we got to walk around a historic neighborhood near the park where Williams was re-buried. It was a neighborhood that reminded me a lot of Charlestown, MA.

The trip was successful, if somewhat hard. We brought along my younger cousin and forgot how much a bundle of energy a pre-teen is! Still, it was nice to get away, even if we weren't straying too much from our own region.

Photos here. Enjoy!

Doing Better

Kittendy love Morgan is almost 100% better. He is probably at a 95% capacity, right now. According to the vet, the 106F fever combined with an unusual infestation of fleas, may have been the root cause of his serious illness. There was a lot of hesitation whether he should be given his normal dose of flea medication, considering the state he was in. My mother had stopped all treatments during this time out of concern for the sorry state of his health. The vet agreed and prescribed a low dose, which seems to have done the trick.

Morgie is pretty much back to normal, meowing away and losing weight because of the increase in activity. He was getting too chubby with his lethargy and a normal appetite. Not a good combination for an already fat cat.

Still, no happy feet. Happy feet are those big paws simultaneously curling and stretching in contentment when lovings are being administered.

Stranger in a Familiar Body

I am utterly devastated, and it involves this little guy.

There was much anticipation to visit CT this past weekend. Lots to do and lots of people to see. A party at my cousin's new home, seeing as much family as possible, and going on little excursions. What I didn't expect was the frightful sight of one of my beloved kitties, Morgan. See, I'm not allowed to keep pets in my apartment building, and to be honest, I'm not sure I would. I say this because I am probably one step away from becoming one of those crazy cat ladies you see all the time on the news. I'm still too young and I haven't gone through menopause yet to allow myself to become like that. Instead, I view the three cats my mother has as my own. I expressly took Friday off in order to fully enjoy the weekend. Upon arrival late Thursday night, saw Morgan in such a state that tears began to well in my eyes.

About two weeks ago, I received a phone call from my mother, Morgie wasn't doing too well and the veterinarian confirmed he had a fever of 106F. The vet surmised it was a virus, prescribed him pills, and sent him on his way. Gradually, kitty got his appetite back and resumed normal bathroom activities. But still. According to my mother, he wasn't the same. Now, weeks later, he hasn't come back around - mentally and physically. There is a familiar ritual I have become accustomed to when I arrive at my mother's home. The cats enter the living room and do that little dance around me. It is a combination of reminding me that they are somewhat acknowledging my presence, and an opportunity to rub up against my suitcase, thus firmly placing my belongings in their territory. The rubs are also a reminder that I should be ever so grateful they awoke from their 20-some hour slumber to grace my presence.

I arrived, gave pets and lovings to two felines and watched as the third sat at this food dish staring at me with vague familiarity. I approached and got the terror of my life. He was unresponsive except for a faint purr and a weak acknowledgment of my presence. There was none of his normal behavior. No heavy purr factory emanating from him. No rubs. No circle dances. Nothing. The luster in his eyes, the luster of his soft fur - gone. Flea bitten for a cat who never seems to get fleas. Instead, the silkiness of his coat due to result of the OCD like devotion to grooming, was dirty, scruffy, and blanketed with scabs from heavy scratching. Oh, and the scratching. Morgan's right foot was out of whack. Probably a symptom of his illness or soreness from all that scratching.

The next morning, I woke to two cats hanging around me meowing and rubbing up against me for the glorious thing I am known to them - wet food. This is usually followed by the excitement of three male cats vying for my attention, circling my legs and batting away at each other in dominance as I dish out the smelly nastiness that is canned food. Usually, Morgan is the first to lie next to me, waking me with his loud meows. He is the ringleader and the greediest eater of them all. This weekend? Nothing. He was not even aware I was even opening the cans. I had to scoot him in front of the dish for him to acknowledge the grub.

Of course, I managed to carry on with all the weekend plans and have a pleasant time with my family; but not without constantly thinking about this poor sick soul. Attending my cousin's party, the numerous dogs frolicking about only reminded me of the one back home who wasn't doing any activity. Come Sunday, my goodbyes to Morgie were laced with extra kisses and hugs, hoping I'd see him again and praying that it would never come to something drastic...

Back From Boston

A splendid time was had by all, and the weather was way agreeable. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. Baby bear conditions. Stops were made via automobile in Hingham, Revere, and Roxbury for family genealogy enquiries, and all of Boston proper was spent on foot. Exhausting.

In Hingham, I all about climbed the walls due to impatience through an obligatory 1 1/2 hour tour of the town's historical society. Things turned immediately to joy upon being shown several samplers made by our direct ancestors when they were young girls. These samplers were close to two hundred years old. Seriously, I simply cannot believe my greats left behind such an enduring legacy!

Our side trip to Revere was spent looking for a street sign of our family name. Since our ancestors founded the town of Charlestown, and settled all throughout the area; the name, the graves, and the remaining houses can be found all over Boston. Our maddening excursion, courtesy of the rotaries, was topped off by a visit to Kelly's for a delicious meal, which we ate on the beach.

The trip to Roxbury was less than forgettable. Driving around looking for the Eustis Street Burying Ground proved to be a huge pain in the ass. Unfortunately, we arrived several minutes after the 3 o'clock closing time. Still, it was one of those beautiful Gothic looking graveyards that is situated on a busy cross street, making it stand out all the more beautiful.

As I mentioned above, our day in Boston was lovely. Since Bunker Hill wasn't open during our visit last year, we decided to stop off for a tour. I climbed all 294 steps to the top only to be met by smelly, sweaty others who probably weren't used to so many stairs. Although my calves were killing me the next day. I discovered later that most of the photos I took up there were marred by all the scratches and smudge marks embedded on the plexi-glass windows. One of the highlights was a militia man dressed in period clothing giving a shooting demonstration on the grounds.

We settled on the Union Oyster House near Faneuil Hall for our last night's dinner. Both of us chose the stuffed fillet of sole. It was delicious, but the seafood stuffing was something less than desired. Nothing bad, it was the kind of stuffing that is all seafood with scant amounts of cracker. I prefer it to be the other way, more crumbly cracker, less seafood. But that's just me. Prior to our meal, we watched a cool street performance by two drummers.

Now for the NPS Passport book. I mentioned in another post how I introduced this program to my mother when we were at the Grand Canyon last month, and that she was now an stamp addict. Boston is loaded with stamping stations and I think we got most of them. This included bagging some bonus stamps which weren't part of the NPS program, but from a now defunct citywide Freedom Trail scavenger hunt. Score!

Photos can be found here. Drummers here --

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.

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.

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.

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.

There's No Place Like Home(s)

This weekend past, I had an inexplicable urge to visit family back in CT. It was hard to pinpoint just why I had this urgency, but on some subconscious level, I had an intuition that my aunt was heading back to Florida, and this had a lot to do with the way I was feeling. By Friday afternoon, the desire became a need. Acting on my gut feelings, I found myself packing, purchasing tickets, and leaving within a few hours of my inner confirmation. The visit proved to be great, and the journey to and fro was incredibly stress free. Climbing aboard an empty Amtrak train is a rare sight for those who travel the northeastern corridor on a weekend.

This visit also affirmed something that has been gnawing inside of me for awhile -- that you can call several places home. I think I have finally become comfortable enough to allow my visits to my mom's house to be called "going home". I fully realize that I have my own abode, and that it will forever hold the top spot over any other locale. This has been a battle that has raged inside of me for some time.

What caused these conflicted feelings for so very long? Probably all of the naysayers who were present in my life when I moved out of state in the first place. Those who thought that moving to a new area of the country was crazy, a criminal form of abandonment, and that I would fail and be back "home", tail between my legs, within a certain amount of time. I was foolish for listening to them, but on many levels, was so unprepared with the challenges of my move that I let them get to me. All of them. Over the last year, I have fallen into a nice comfort zone with the realization that one can indeed call many places home. The ten year mark of the move had a lot to do with my new outlook as well. At first, I fought these feelings tooth and nail. Then I gave in as part of a quiet reluctance. Finally, I accepted the idea and developed a confidence around my feelings.

On another note, I dropped in to see both my father and grandmother as well. It was nice to pack in as many family visits as possible since I always seem to separate the two sides (mother and father) into individual visits. Nothing personal. Not at all, really. For some odd reason, it just always seems to work out that way. I simply adore my grandmother and thoroughly enjoy spending time with her. A modern woman with whom anyone can dish with about the trials and tribulations of today's events, I often ask her to discuss a memory or two of her childhood, The Blitz, and the past in general. I do this because I never really bothered to with my other grandparents, and I regret it sorely.

So, this past weekend, I went from home to home, and then back to my home. There's no place like home(s), where ever you happen to be.

Tarrytown

Today, I met up with my mom and cousins in Tarrytown, NY. Mom had wanted to go for awhile and was waiting for good weather and another body in the car for the trip. Her favorite show back in the day was "Dark Shadows", and the feature length films had scenes filmed on location at the Lyndhurst estate, and the Sleepy Hollow cemetery. I was interested too. I figured I'd pay homage to Washington Irving, whose name graces a street and the school that are in close proximity to me.

Turns out, the cemetery was a blast. An old and absolutely huge Victorian set up, complete with mausoleums and beautiful landscaping. The weather was totally agreeable and perfect for exploring. You could get lost here, and at times, we did! We found Washington Irving's grave (who wrote The Legend of Sleepy Hollow) and several cool mausoleums. Oddly enough, they are not really built for the living to enjoy. We found this out from all the effort it took to peer inside where we saw busts and statues, stained glass windows and mosaic tiles. Beautiful. The Rockefeller's mausoleum looks like one should be taking an oath in front of it. What we didn't anticipate were deer - lots of them. With the cemetery situated near woods, and the isolation and greenery of the cemetery, it makes it ideal for their lifestyle.

Naturally, any outing with family results in dirty jokes and much laughter. Some of the surnames on these graves left us in complete stitches with our jokes expanding into "what ifs" and "imagine ifs".

I think we all underestimated how much there was to do there, because we focused on the cemetery for the better part of the day. The center of town was like any other in Westchester County, complete with antique shops and such sprinkled all over. On a recommendation from my co-worker, we ate at Bella's for some good diner food, and had homemade ice cream at Main Street Sweets. Afterwards, we strolled up and down Main Street stopping into the quaint shops.

In the end, we had no time for Lyndhurst, the Rockefeller estate, or Irving's Sunnyside home.

I'm still waiting for photos back from my cousin's camera. She managed to get perfect pictures with a cheapo camera, close up, of the deer. Isn't that always the case? I'll add them when she gets around to sending them to me.

You can see my pictures here.

I Got To Say It Was A Good Day

Yesterday, was a picture perfect day. My two cousins H and H came into the city for Elton John's 60th Birthday concert at MSG, and they spent the afternoon with me. Because they spend most of their time in Midtown when they visit, I decided to show them around the West Village. When it's a beautiful day in New York, it's absolutely beautiful in every way possible. H (of 365 blog fame) took a lot of pictures and posted a few of them on her blog. I am so awestruck at her talent, and she really captured the essence of the day. Had I taken the picture of the little girl (which is one of my faves because it captures the innocence of people watching from above), I would have taken it so far back that too much would have been in the shot. I'm glad I was able to show them a part of the city I cherish, which is also a part that many don't get to see on television.

It's funny, because we all learned something new that day, including yours truly. After they arrived and we found a place to eat, they expressed an interest in visiting Madame Tussaud's. Never in my life had I set foot in the place and I really only went out of half interest. Well, I was completely taken by surprise to find that I had such a great time there. I truly believed it would have been a bunch of horrible wax figures just standing around. Yeah, some of the celebrities didn't look as true to life as you would think, but some looked as if the actual person were standing right there in front of you. The museum creates an ambiance with the figures and that makes a major difference. We went through the Chamber of Horrors but didn't remember much because our eyes were closed and we were screaming the whole time!

I'm so glad I was able to spend some time with my cousins, since I'm not able to much. Still, it's always fun to connect with them, and yesterday was no different.

Family Matters

Monday, I mailed out a card for my great aunt’s 90th birthday yesterday. It’s not every day you pick out a 90th birthday card for someone. Trust me, there’s not many on offer to buy either. There was a sense of sadness in this act because my great aunt is the only "great-" anything left on my mother’s side of the family. I should look at it with reverence and happiness, and trust me, on so many levels I do. But, I can’t help but have a thin layer of melancholy when I think about it.

Several weeks ago, while at my cousin’s house, I stared into a group portrait of my maternal grandmother's parents with all of their children, their children's spouses, and their first grandchild. Only two in the picture are alive today - my great aunt and my mother’s cousin (which would make her my second cousin). I remember almost all of these people when they were alive, save for my great-grandfather, who passed seven months prior to my arrival into the world.

Sometimes, I also think of my paternal grandmother and I feel sadness. She is the only grandparent I have left, and that has an impact on how I view family. First, there are the most obvious reasons; you don’t want the people you love very much to leave you. Second, not only is it hard to let go of family members, it’s also hard to let go of time. Lastly, there are threads which hold a family together, thick richly woven ones and grandparents are almost always holding the reigns to them. Once they pass, the rest of the family is left to pick up where the grandparents left off. It becomes like a new administration, complete with shifting of power, shifting of balances, and shifting of allegiances.

Another thought I had is that family works somewhat like a tier system of generations, and it’s sometimes hard making that depressing but natural move up those tiers. Once my maternal grandfather passed, there was a brief period of shifting. Who was going to head the family now? We now had to make adjustments. With a tier system, there is deep comfort being part of the youngest group (thus, the last tier) who looks up to the older groups, no matter how difficult it may be. I think part of this comfort is the memories that come with your generational place in the family tree. With those memories, remains a longing for things to remain as they are, not to change one bit. To keep the good old days. Does that make sense?

Now? My cousins, who once looked up at the older folks, have jumped a tier and have another generation who is now doing the looking up. It's a constant reminder that unlike photos, time doesn't freeze.