tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35252130221429002552024-03-19T03:48:09.662-04:00Strickly Speakingfrom Carol A. Strickland<br>
The author, artist and Wonder Woman fanatic waxes about life and creativity.Carol A. Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03391390443442822145noreply@blogger.comBlogger242125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-45174772647730278332021-05-03T11:45:00.004-04:002021-05-03T14:23:56.760-04:00I'll Show You What I've Got!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40JNYtIaQxE629ymKev5WaQ69LArrEAd9_vvRLli_A_5nlq-p8B-MfM6Oo0h0Yt8GWIfx5HrAfDRs-D4RZtZKuPWX1hQhKW9BDwBtjfCyK_MlSy-vJ_U4XzI1qGL6_RQi9S8HPy8obVmU/s2048/PXL_20210430_221414455.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40JNYtIaQxE629ymKev5WaQ69LArrEAd9_vvRLli_A_5nlq-p8B-MfM6Oo0h0Yt8GWIfx5HrAfDRs-D4RZtZKuPWX1hQhKW9BDwBtjfCyK_MlSy-vJ_U4XzI1qGL6_RQi9S8HPy8obVmU/w400-h300/PXL_20210430_221414455.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Through the window at the Hillsborough Arts Council!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Friday, April 30, 2021, (sorta) my (sorta) first art show premiered!</p><p>Okay, it wasn't my first. My first was at a coffee shop in Cary, NC, in 2005. The proprietor told me she wanted every wall in her place covered from ceiling to floor in paintings. She had high ceilings. I was desperate and agreed.</p><p>I measured and made paper templates showing me where to hammer in nails so each painting would fit. I called a week and a half previous to confirm. Yes, the current art show would be down by the time I arrived. I called the day before hanging. Absolutely, the walls would be bare and ready for me. I explained that I had a flight to San Francisco I had to catch the same day.</p><p>So I arrived at the appointed time. The previous show was still up. The proprietor couldn't understand why I was upset, even when I reminded her of my flight. Calls were made and the teacher who'd hung the previous show (elementary students) finally showed. I helped her take things down and put them in the car.</p><p>Then, borrowing from the Speed Force, I got every last painting hung, every card with pricing information placed. Sweating like a horse after a derby, I then zoomed down the road to catch that flight, praying I wouldn't be too late. Thank goodness it was RDU and the security lines there are much faster (less populated) than those at larger airports. Got there just in time!</p><p>Didn't sell anything at that show; didn't get any contacts. I hate to admit it but a couple years later I was not sorry when that coffee shop closed its doors. Bad me.</p><p>Years later, I see a notice from the Hillsborough NC Arts Council to apply for upcoming shows. What the heck. I applied, using several landscapes I liked. I'd seen the small upstairs galleries they have downtown, around the corner from the main gallery. It wouldn't take many paintings to fill one, and the people were friendly.</p><p>And I got in! In the main gallery!</p><p>And the pandemic hit!</p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjGA0KcBd6AJEAGq6sPmamzpMCdJEQIvXok-Qm3UmiO8LLKwwTAuVNEE3ZFbDcyGPpSAQbr6hl-GkSEDustbV0Pjwz67ANBMp0eyz284R5K6jBBBjrL_RMQJP3KI_xP8HLoPZMyVzhIGZ/s2048/PXL_20210426_152440974.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1999" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjGA0KcBd6AJEAGq6sPmamzpMCdJEQIvXok-Qm3UmiO8LLKwwTAuVNEE3ZFbDcyGPpSAQbr6hl-GkSEDustbV0Pjwz67ANBMp0eyz284R5K6jBBBjrL_RMQJP3KI_xP8HLoPZMyVzhIGZ/s320/PXL_20210426_152440974.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging the show. The pictures on the bench are mine.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>They postponed all shows until this year. I was teamed up with another artist for my show, and went down to the main gallery to check out the available space. Oh my. It was really small. The people told me how they were about to shuffle the layout of the shop to allow more hanging space, but I never heard further confirmation about that and ultimately it didn't happen. What I DID hear was that the lady I was showing with did large paintings.</p><p>So I changed my plan and went for smaller flower paintings. No one complained. When I showed up for the hanging (the volunteers at HAC did all the work; whew, and thank you!) we decided on one large painting per wall, and I'd fill in with smaller stuff. The lady had also brought smaller stuff. All in all, we came up with a show that wasn't too busy, wasn't too light on product.</p><p>Reception -- reception! during a pandemic! -- was scheduled for Friday evening, playing off Final Friday in town. I put on a nice blouse and realized it had been a year and a half since I'd worn one, made sure I wore my nicer shoes, and journeyed to Hillsborough. Downtown was swarming with people taking advantage of the occasion and new outdoor mask mandates. Of course there was no parking downtown, but the new parking deck waaay down the hill beyond Weaver Street Market still had spots available. I certainly got in my steps!</p><p>My vision of an Art Reception was me standing around with fascinated patrons mesmerized as I told them about how with this one painting I'd intended to focus on the connectedness of life and basic life spiritual forces within plants. How I'd chosen colors. The techniques of batik on rice paper.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadB3YqabP8js6nXELJ8R4Jk3AAfq6455s7Hrx0w3eIXJIqibeEJytcEjn4877a5BkP-G51jSrziTksQW88kXhp9CL6KRzBtxl9pLFlrdgQf9iD5maiyU0iAGhBYfWxAU8Kxa21Gyy3Wb4/s4032/PXL_20210430_221252664.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadB3YqabP8js6nXELJ8R4Jk3AAfq6455s7Hrx0w3eIXJIqibeEJytcEjn4877a5BkP-G51jSrziTksQW88kXhp9CL6KRzBtxl9pLFlrdgQf9iD5maiyU0iAGhBYfWxAU8Kxa21Gyy3Wb4/s320/PXL_20210430_221252664.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The little sunflower pic there! That's mine!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Instead I got there, snapped a couple pictures as a starter, heard one of the staffers talk about a 15-person limit for the shop, and turned around to see about twenty people surge in. "I thought there was a limit?" I asked the girl at the cash register. She shrugged.</p><p>So I did the decent thing and retreated outside. I hung around the window, waiting for the crowd to exit. Others entered before they could do so.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsafkq9cCyoYb42j2RGbp-SwrgFIaGNTzMChfuiFNt5SzRwOvZrRzFSKsxwKQ2ya5SbRJIRHI7f125qrlPWpxiCs9DIdtp_cUKq3BQGqJp424AmM9LJltNjoQLZ0PIGvWk_5u6o9U5JOV/s2048/PXL_20210430_221236403.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1773" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsafkq9cCyoYb42j2RGbp-SwrgFIaGNTzMChfuiFNt5SzRwOvZrRzFSKsxwKQ2ya5SbRJIRHI7f125qrlPWpxiCs9DIdtp_cUKq3BQGqJp424AmM9LJltNjoQLZ0PIGvWk_5u6o9U5JOV/s320/PXL_20210430_221236403.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the small work here is my stuff.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Ah well, I thought, more people to see my work. Maybe someone would buy. Maybe someone would pick up one of my new business cards that had just arrived days before, with the new logo that Art Storefronts insist we have. Wait; had I seen the cards displayed? I'm going on faith that they were, because as long as I waited the crowd didn't lessen enough for me to go back inside.</p><p>On the way back to the parking deck I did get a chance to check out the Saratoga Restaurant's door. I've had paintings hanging there for years now that I change out every few months. Sold two. One of the owners died just before the pandemic hit; so terribly sad. She was always so encouraging. Since the pandemic it's been extremely difficult to tell when the restaurant is open. Their door sign says nothing about their hours. Their website has hours that show that they're concentrating on lunch, not dinner. When I've been there they've had pandemic customers: very few. I may stop showing there. It's difficult to get to (not handicap accessible), and sales have been pfft. I hate to seem ungracious!</p><p>Such is the art biz.</p><p>Hey, come check out my ALL NEW <a href="https://www.stricklyart.com" target="_blank">art webpages</a>! I've joined Art Storefronts and now offer prints, so much less expensive than original paintings. Once the art studio is built (yes, I'm STILL trying to make that happen) (it will! It will! Archangel Michael assures me that it's there already) I'l be able to get the paintings out of storage and begin offering them.</p>Carol A. Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03391390443442822145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-45886025042152061222021-01-21T14:24:00.002-05:002021-01-21T14:24:38.645-05:00It Takes a Special Woman to Wear These!<p>Hi, friends! Yay, it’s finally 2021!</p><p>Nothing like a pandemic to get one to finish a book. Or two. I was working hard on one while on vacation last October, hoping to have it out by spring, when I came home to find – “Why can I see straight through my bathroom wall?” – a TREE through my roof! Darn that Hurricane Zeta anyway.</p><p>It’s difficult to concentrate on space drama when workers are stomping through your house all day, so I took out an almost-finished manuscript I’d been meaning to publish soon because the <em>Wonder Woman 1984</em> movie and everything, and worked on that instead of the Serious Matter left in the previous book. (Yes, I tend to write the Fun Stuff first.)</p><p>Now I’m happy to announce that <em><strong>Star-Spangled Pantie</strong></em><strong>s</strong> has just been released on major publishing platforms! What’s it about? Here’s ye official blurb:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sTbwAdPNLmVL2tS0qCGxLn9gB7GsLlAni4IGyJsbQsnTGSwAr6Ke5HeM2fUGAXAKLnA1b2xgKokNY3611bYGKexKPfe-jiYOJh6M1CZQohGmmhKZs3dC4b0ENaRCY3k3yhnfHS9pEbIx/s300/S-S+P+200x300+72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sTbwAdPNLmVL2tS0qCGxLn9gB7GsLlAni4IGyJsbQsnTGSwAr6Ke5HeM2fUGAXAKLnA1b2xgKokNY3611bYGKexKPfe-jiYOJh6M1CZQohGmmhKZs3dC4b0ENaRCY3k3yhnfHS9pEbIx/s0/S-S+P+200x300+72dpi.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><strong style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;">Wonder Woman’s</strong><span style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;">the greatest superhero this world has ever seen!</span></p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;">A lifelong fan lays out WW’s legend for those who want to know her better. Brush up on the important people, equipment, and lessons that Princess Diana has shown us through the years. Lively chapters show how she came to be, her powers, her friends… and who the rogues are who make up her enemies list.</p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes her biggest adversaries have been the members of her creative staff, who too often had disrespect for their leading lady, were clueless about who she is, or were creatively restricted by corporate marketing decisions.</p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Nevertheless, she persists.</em></p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;">This volume even attempts to unravel the history of Wonder Woman’s sister, <strong>Donna Troy</strong>. (Have your aspirin ready.)</p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes wacky, sometimes serious – and ALWAYS opinionated– this book reveals how Wonder Woman breaks out of patriarchy’s restrictive mold to demonstrate that everyone can stand strong, kind, empowered, and entirely their truthful selves in today’s world.</p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;">All they need is a hero to show them the way: <strong>WONDER WOMAN!</strong></p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;">(Note: print version has black and white illustrations; digital has color.)</p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08RY3G77B" target="_blank">Buy from Amazon</a></b></p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.carolastrickland.com/fiction/panties.html" target="_blank">Buy from other online dealers</a></b></p><p style="font-family: Alegreya, Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></p><p></p><p>I’m happy to report that the last of the repairs should be finished in the next two weeks. Well, knock wood. Contractors; what can I say? I’d planned on beginning home remodeling at the end of THIS year, not last year, but the Universe had other ideas. Now I have a beautiful new master bathroom, a great new roof, and new siding, thanks in part to State Farm’s check.</p><p>And that other book? Working on it now, thanks.</p><p>Thanks for checking out the book. Stay safe out there!!!</p><p>Carol Strick</p>Carol A. Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03391390443442822145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-45236369271565985192020-04-14T18:45:00.000-04:002020-04-14T18:45:38.423-04:00You could win Amazon cash!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep4zxqeAJ0fMxqealt_83DeD6HwUnuCA_2jvbQAgSJ78q4jCa46m-SMsm-Kik7I6uTG9xBoJK5Gqhly238l_vziCpCPwEDc5e7b_vL9CMz34gIKB-yKpgFZ097VrzBZrX8raAGAzcr_xi/s1600/applesauce+giveaway+green.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1037" data-original-width="1200" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep4zxqeAJ0fMxqealt_83DeD6HwUnuCA_2jvbQAgSJ78q4jCa46m-SMsm-Kik7I6uTG9xBoJK5Gqhly238l_vziCpCPwEDc5e7b_vL9CMz34gIKB-yKpgFZ097VrzBZrX8raAGAzcr_xi/s320/applesauce+giveaway+green.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Happy April, fellow quarantiners! I hope you and all your acquaintances are healthy and going to remain that way for a long, long time.</span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">But are you bored? Finished binging </span><em>Picard</em><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> and </span><em>The Great British Baking Show</em><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">? Garden is fully planted, nothing to do now but wait for things to grow? How about trying out some new books, all at a low, low price?</span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I’ve reduced the price of ALL my Kindle books to 99¢ for the duration. Around June 1, or whenever we come out of this, they’ll go back up to normal. I’m hoping this makes them look a little more inviting than usual.</span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Check them out at </span><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Carol-A-Strickland/e/B0036UZYYI?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_7&qid=1586283963&sr=8-7" style="color: #954f72;">https://smile.amazon.com/Carol-A-Strickland/e/B0036UZYYI?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_7&qid=1586283963&sr=8-7</a><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> . That’s on Amazon Smile, which I like to use instead of regular Amazon because a few pennies of everything one buys goes to a charity that you designate.</span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">There’s superhero romance adventure, soft science fiction with a dash of humor, and one sweet historical romance. (A word of warning: </span><em>Nothing to Lose</em><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> is also priced at 99¢, but that’s usual for it as it’s a short story. One of these days I’m going to expand it to novel-length…)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">How do you like the new cover to<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><em>Applesauce and Moonbeams</em><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">? I got artist Chris Jay to do the adorable illustration of Jonathan, the spoiled moon cat. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">But wait! You could win $100 in Amazon cash!</span><o:p></o:p></h1>
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<span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">You thought I forgot about that, didn't you? Through April 19, enter at<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="https://thekindlebookreview.us5.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b176bf2f5e126e6007c908e3c&id=705561dbc2&e=c6f1ce59f2" style="color: #954f72;" target="_blank">http://ow.ly/Gc7C50zc8P4</a><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> as part of the weekly Kindle Review Giveaway. They have a nice selection of low-priced books there – one of which is MY<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><em>Applesauce!</em><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">– and you'll find a button to enter their contest. This is a great way to check out new authors and build your e-library!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Hope you enjoy whatever you’re reading, watching or doing! Remember: leaving an honest review is sheer gold-plated latinum for us authors. It can be short: “Loved it!” “I enjoyed the characters,” “Interesting plot,” etc. Still gold.</span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Enjoy spring. It’s still happening out there, despite quarantine. Stay healthy!</span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Carol Strick</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Carol A. Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03391390443442822145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-54657613207311765062020-01-10T08:15:00.001-05:002020-01-10T08:27:16.861-05:00Graphic novel review: WARBRINGER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just finished reading the new graphic novel, <b><i>Wonder Woman: Warbringer.</i></b> It's a dreary, slow tale that needed focus, sharper editing, and explanation as to the main (historical) dilemma that sets up everything. As it is it's all over the place, very little characterization for anyone. When I get a longer work, I expect to wallow in WADS of characterization because there's room for this most important of elements.</div>
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Here we have a Diana made of clay (yay!), but one with Silver Platter powers, gifted and not earned. (A plot twist gives some of her powers to someone else, who instantly also has the SKILLS to go with them, as if working for something isn't important or necessary.) Queen Hip is a brunette here, but is fairly estranged from her daughter, who longs for love and acceptance. (WHY do so many of the newer tales do this?) Diana doesn't get it from unkind Amazons (and her mother, who condones the treatment). (Amazons are NEVER unkind! They are the very foundation upon which Diana was built.)</div>
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But the worst offender by far is the art. It is literally colorless, or monochrome, with a few bits of red here and there to show violence. And sometimes not; it's inconsistent. It's fairly lifeless, when a story with so little movement to it needs active art. Even the action scenes are not very. During a number of crisis points I could not tell what the heck was going on.</div>
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A couple of times it's mentioned how provocatively Diana is dressed though she's covered from chin to toes, with only a small section of belly bare. Giving her a tee shirt is supposed to make her less exposed. ???</div>
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I want to introduce the artist (who teaches comics) to the works of Will Eisner, Amanda Conner, Sergio Aragonés, and Alex Toth. I'm not saying she should display their genius. I just think there's a LOT more she could have done. Here almost all panels are medium long shots, and all figures except (a little) for the chubby chick look and pose alike. They stand around. Facial expressions are minimal; body language is missing. There is no drama in composition or action!</div>
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Why wouldn't an editor point this out and advise a different approach? If this is the artist's normal style, why was she hired in the first place for such a project?</div>
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The panel sequences are sometimes quite choppy in narrative. Typographic sound effects are wan; easily missed. I was surprised to discover that Diana and the girl victim agree that a female loses her personhood when she gets married -- but this is what the story teaches. When a boy touches Diana's chest, she discusses the problem instead of slapping his hand away and THEN discussing it.</div>
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Perhaps I read the story wrong, but what I came away with was: These Warbringers are females who pop up now and then, inheriting a curse from a female ancestor. Just by their very existence they bring about war when they hit the age of 17. There's a male in the story who also inherits, but from MEN, not females. Males can work with the curse to make themselves powerful. The girls just sit around while armageddon hits. Hm.</div>
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You'd think a concept like classic Diana (not modern one) would have a high time dealing with this, perhaps teaching Our Victim how to control her curse to bring peace to the world. She might reform the bad male in the story as well.</div>
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I know Ms. Simonson can do better; I've heartily enjoyed some rip-roaring tales (and entire series) from her. Here she's adapting a novel and likely ran into all kinds of editorial restrictions because of that. But still... I'm willing to say she had a bad few weeks but that's no reason why such should get past an editor without corrections.</div>
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There are problems when one adapts a story from another medium. <i>Gone With the Wind</i> (the movie) did away with most of Scarlett's kids, but kept the dialogue as well as the basic plot points. The Steve Martin <i>Cheaper By the Dozen</i> kept the dozen kids from the brilliant book (read it!) and discarded EVERYTHING else. I wince every time I see that ghastly thing being aired. Check out the current <i>Little Women</i> and contrast and compare to the book. Interesting, interesting stuff going on in the translation. (I still haven't figured out if the end is "real" or not.) Feminist themes have been expanded upon. A definite modern attitude has been applied that fits comfortably with the subject matter. Characters' definitions have been embroidered upon. Wonderful stuff! (Bring your hankies!)</div>
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In <i>Warbringer</i> there's a fat friend who is not Etta but seems to be cloned from her. (She's even a seamstress, like that one fairly recent WW series set in WWII had.) She and Our Victim have been put down all their lives for being People of Color. You feel sorry for them... until we see that Our Victim and her brother are richer than rich, part of the 1%. Difficult to pity people who in truth likely had zero social problems growing up because of their financial circumstances.</div>
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There was no joy in the story. No happiness. No celebration of the female principle. No amazement from Diana as she experienced the Outer World for the first time. Heck, it seemed as if both worlds were well-known to both sides of characters. Where's the SensaWonder I want in a fantasy story? Why is everything reduced to violence being solved with more violence? (How very patriarchal.) Why is death being treated so cavalierly? (Especially in a YA novel.) WAR HURTS. We didn't see that here, just colorful violence and an easy, video game reset mentality. War ain't like that.</div>
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As a whole I found the book to be disjointed, poorly illustrated and, well, boring. I can't recommend it. HEY, DC, GIVE US A GREAT WONDER WOMAN GRAPHIC NOVEL! Just once. Would it kill you?</div>
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Another graphic WW story came out this week: </div>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: , , "blinkmacsystemfont" , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><b><i>Diana, Princess of the Amazons.</i></b> It's geared toward a much younger crowd than <i>Warbringer.</i> It's vastly entertaining! A great read for kids. It's (mostly) post-Crisis continuity, though Queen Hip is a blonde. They even got in Gen. Phil being her lover; cool! And it is QUITE FIRMLY based on Diana having been made from clay. Yay!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: , , "blinkmacsystemfont" , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">In it Diana has some problems (that poor mother relationship unfortunately comes up again, but is presented from a kid's point of view, so is likely a temporary anomaly), TAKES ACTION to find a friend, and then discovers some Lessons of Life. Recommended!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: , , "blinkmacsystemfont" , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">What are your thoughts about these two books?</span></div>
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Carol A. Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03391390443442822145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-88286791122635375462019-11-19T17:00:00.001-05:002019-11-20T20:48:26.801-05:00Timeshares are MoneyAh, vacation! And how lovely it is to return to Gatlinburg, TN, where I have a timeshare at Westgate Smoky Mountain Resort & Spa.<br />
<br />
When I first visited, I was required to spend 3 hours being subjected to a hard-core sales pitch. Now that I'd bought I wouldn't have to go through that again, would I?<br />
<br />
Guess again. I had to attend a breakfast (at 10:30 AM! Wouldn't that be better called a "second breakfast"?) with my "concierge," the fast-talking man who sold me my unit three years ago.<br />
<br />
I was disappointed that instead of the modern unit with the breathtaking vista I had originally stayed in, that I'd been given one of the run-down units at the bottom of the mountain. Oh well, I was here to write and look at instructional videos I'd been putting off viewing for one reason or another. You know, getting away from the long "to-do" list that's at home.<br />
<br />
So I was picked up by my concierge at 9:30 AM to view what's new at the resort. Practically everything is, as practically everything burned down a few months after I'd bought in. Unfortunately, the run-down units at the bottom of the mountain were spared from Nature's Wrath. (No one was hurt at the resort, btw.)<br />
<br />
We went to the building I'd stayed in last time, which is now a new building, and I oohed and ahhed at the sleek model unit there with the lovely view of the valleys and surrounding mountains. They gave me a freshly-baked chocolate chip cookie and tried to foist several more on me, but I held firm. Just one.<br />
<br />
Then it was down to the Lodge for a rather dismal, incomplete breakfast. At least this one had proteins in it, unlike the one I'd briefly visited in Kissimmee last February, which was ALL carbs. Concierge... May I call him Bart? Not his real name... Bart and I shared small talk. He does like to drop the name Jesus a lot; he does evangelical lectures. He hugs without asking permission, and keeps saying "You're so funny" to everyone but especially (it seemed) to me. Bart also likes to let you know that he's extremely rich, though he doesn't say that directly. He just shows you pictures of his mansion, his acreage, his vintage cars (did he say he had 20 or 40?), and all his fancy motorcycles. Got it, Bart.<br />
<br />
He did say that next time I come I should arrange to hold some art classes. The resort would love me to do that! I just might look into it, after I've had some practice back home.<br />
<br />
Anyway, he starts talking up the resort and how he's bought so much of it and how people who've also bought are making big bucks by renting out their weeks. (I have had zero luck renting out my place, but he says to call him and he'll help me do it.) Westgate Smoky Mountains is the #2 timeshare in the US, on track to become #1 in five years. And of course (like they told me last time) the prices on the units are about to jump up, so NOW IS A GREAT TIME TO BUY! Or upgrade. I could be living in that pretty unit way up on the mountain, looking out over that vista.<br />
<br />
I make it crystal clear to Bart that I'm not buying anything, thank you. He keeps telling me how I need to buy a $250,000 8-bedroom unit so I can rent it out and make sixteen times my maintenance fee each year. He tells me that he's making six figures a year off his units. I laugh at him. He's so funny.<br />
<br />
Then -- surprise -- Bart calls over his supervisor. I'm getting all this deja vu from our talk, because it's precisely the thing that had happened when I bought. And when I wanted to buy some new floors for my house. And when I bought new windows. These sales guys must all go to the same school, no? It's so clear they're operating from a literal script.<br />
<br />
We don't get the supervisor but rather an understudy as the supervisor's busy. Let's call him Jim. He's under 30YO, and makes now what I'll make total in my lifetime. His breath could fell an elephant. He's amazed that an anomaly has shown up on my record. Give him a minute and he'll look into it. (Deja vu.) Comes back, and it turns out that my unit is actually a re-sold unit and that technically according to their records I've had it since 2005, when it was built, instead of for the actual 3 years I've owned it. That puts me in a Very Special Owner category. Imho, that puts them in Fantasy Land.<br />
<br />
He tells me about those 8-bedroom units that can be split up into 8 units for rental purposes. All I have to do is upgrade. I give Bart the Evil Eye and Bart tells me to let him do the talking, to get me the best deal.<br />
<br />
He then explains that I'm not interested in the 8-BR property, or even the 4BR one. I just want the 2BR one (which can be rented as 2 separate units or traded for stays at other resorts for something like 4 weeks of vacation stays), which comes as news to me. When had I told him this? I checked my memory. Nope, never gave him a clue in that direction. "Not buying anything" had been my instructions.<br />
<br />
Bart and Jim argue vehemently with each other. In a burst of overacting Bart snatches an official letter with an offer on it from Jim's hands, holds it above his head, and rips it in half. Then he puts the pieces together and rips them again so the letter and offer are now strips. People at neighboring tables stare at him as he shouts. Bravo! They have this down to an art form. I applaud them. No, really, I did. It was lovely theater, and I told them so.<br />
<br />
This did not faze them. I doubt if they were listening to me, a mere woman. Jim goes off and "figures out" a deal for me as I repeat to Bart that no way am I buying anything today. If a few bucks will upgrade me to a nicer unit, I might listen to that. Otherwise, nope.<br />
<br />
Jim comes back. More outraged arguing! More deja vu! Bret asserts his machismo, cowing his "supervisor," who slinks off again after I've given them another round of applause. Really, local theater is hardly ever this good.<br />
<br />
Jim returns with yet another deal. I can trade in my unit for a posh 2BR unit high up on the mountain in their second-best (non-Presidential) complex. It will only take $28,000 more of my money. Bart argues him down, then down again. They wind up at $15,000 plus trade-in. I will be a Rich Woman renting out my unit every year.<br />
<br />
I check my watch. It is now 12:30. "I've been here 3 hours," I announce. Last time it took 6 hours, and I'd already told Bart that I wasn't playing that game this time. "I want to go shopping. I've really enjoyed this. Thanks a lot."<br />
<br />
And I get up and leave.<br />
<br />
Sure, if I had the money I'd likely invest in a 2BR unit, and for all I know, I might even make money on it. But these next two years will be concerned with paying everything off so I can retire in the black. If the lottery comes through, or my books hit the Best Seller list, I'll think about it. I never did sign that odd, convenient paper (another case of deja vu) they wanted me to sign in order to sever some kind of "easy way up" on upgrading in the future.<br />
<br />
Fine theater!<br />
<br />
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll start setting up the fire under the run-down units. That's one way to get an upgrade. (You didn't read that, you hear?)<br />
<br />
NOTE: Apparently the value of my unit has doubled from what I paid for it. Bart says it should at least double again in the next five years. The fire has sent property values on area rentals through the roof. He warned me not to try to sell it for those five years. If I sell it on my own, the resort has to approve the buyer, AND they'll have to pay $500 a year in addition to maintenance fees. OR I can wrangle a direct deal to sell the property back to Westgate, which is what I'd always thought I'd do anyway, if that option were available. Likely I won't get anywhere near full value, but if the property has quadrupled in value by then, I won't complain. I got rid of my first timeshare (ugh!) this past spring, after 18 months in the courts. That cost me money to do; I won't have to do that with Westgate.Carol A. Stricklandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03391390443442822145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-48478076668005716122019-07-04T08:50:00.000-04:002019-07-15T09:23:18.622-04:00The Secrets of Pre-Life Hypnotherapy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyPQkgjxPYYcRxRCUw8nEsFMuan4OPM8gQrAuDR3AwTutvpRabj2tdQ5xCF3mA0Or8hA90Lm0MDM9DFs5Iv2C1aeMqJLRSSxo98e8GyfUDApEIZPSnIzu4F2VeLkaiUbIAnWj0Z61Q1I/s1600/Higher+Self.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyPQkgjxPYYcRxRCUw8nEsFMuan4OPM8gQrAuDR3AwTutvpRabj2tdQ5xCF3mA0Or8hA90Lm0MDM9DFs5Iv2C1aeMqJLRSSxo98e8GyfUDApEIZPSnIzu4F2VeLkaiUbIAnWj0Z61Q1I/s320/Higher+Self.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Higher Self" 20x20" oil on stretched canvas.<br />
This isn't what she actually looks like, but is something akin to<br />
an image of herself that we agreed was something I could paint at this time.<br />
She doesn't really have a human face, but she does have lovely eyes and smile, and that crown!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I’m a fan of the late Dr. Michael Newton’s books in which he categorizes hundreds of people’s past-life experiences, particularly the between-lives bits. His Newton Institute trains hypnotherapists. I had wondered if any lived near me, and was delighted to find several, including one who was a half-hour from my office. I set up an appointment with Nora Young, regression hypnotherapist. She has specialized hour-long appointments but I chose the “Go for it!” 4-5 hour megapaloosa that would cover just about everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">She had me make a list of questions I wanted answered, and gave herself a day to check them over. Then I arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">She explained how the session would proceed and answered questions I had about it. This was not my first past-life regression; I even took a workshop once on how to do them. I lay all the way back in a gigantic recliner as New Age music softly played. She set spiritual golden light around me as a shield and asked higher beings to watch over me. All the memories I came up with would be to help me in my current lifetime, she instructed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">We went through relaxation and breathing techniques for a little over a half hour. Then in my imagination I stood at the top of a beautiful 63-step (I’m 63 YO) staircase and began making my way down it, one step at a time. After a few steps I began to glide down, past the decades until I was about 12, when I found myself on a family vacation in Arkansas. It wasn’t that great a memory, and perhaps I should have warned her that I don’t have that many happy memories of my childhood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">The next step down that staircase I think I went farther than she’d expected, and “landed” when I was a baby sitting on the floor in my grandmother’s house, really excited over the colors and textures of a bunch of balloons and their ties. The ties were ribbed under my fingernails; the colors vivid. I could see the old wood floors that weren’t in great condition, as well as the rug, which had tassels along its edge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">At around the one-hour mark I moved backward in time into the womb. I was surprised; I was rotating so my head was in a “down” position. It was almost time to be born. I knew my mother was not pleased to be pregnant. Her life was not going the way she wanted; all this was more trouble for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Nora took me back to a six-month fetus. I wasn’t quite in the body yet (the vast majority of souls don’t enter the body until the last trimester), but she took me to the moment I connected fully. It was like a snapping sensation on my upper left head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I knew I was fat already. My mother was depressed, and the womb was full of brown depression/world-is-unsafe energy from her clogging me. I also got the impression she was constantly worried about money. My dad had a make-do job back then, between stints in the Air Force.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Nora helped me set up a white-gold shield that pushed back that brown energy from Mom. I added breath work to blow it out of my space. I also blew out my father’s secondhand smoke as well as Willie’s (see below), and its anger. My weight is primarily protection against the world and such energies. I could feel myself lightening as the bad energy cleared out. Three guardian spirits helped with the energies; they have always watched over me. As a fetus, I began to laugh in delight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Why am I here? Nora asked. I answered: to learn to control my power. I’m clearing out past life crap as well, an action that is really manifesting in present day as I also clear out my house, etc. This is the lifetime I’m straightening up my soul! I was told to meditate regularly and cast off more bits of sour energy as I can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">An hour and a half into it, we moved back to the life just before this one. I’d met Willie (Knoble? He made a big deal/joke about the silent “k.”) before. He wasn’t that bright, was skinny with a bad overbite, and had stringy blond hair. He was from Illinois. Though he’d begun happy enough as a child he’d grown into a sullen, chain-smoking teenager. He was tired of being stuck on the dull old farm and took his first chance to see the world: he joined the Navy. It was 1941.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">They stuck him in a submarine where he couldn’t see anything. Though he had friends in the crew, all they could do was work (he mopped decks), drink, play cards, and smoke. Yes, in a sub. They’d also whisper about the Japanese, and how they tortured and starved prisoners. Several of the crew, including Willie, were terrorized by the idea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">So it came as no surprise that when the sub was taken by the Japanese in the Pacific, Willie and some of the crew chose to jump overboard rather than be taken as prisoners. Surprisingly with calm detachment (better this than the alternative) I saw the light filter through the water above me. Then I was traveling up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">My sullen soul had six or eight spirits around it. As we kept rising they pulled at the dark, twisted, concentrated, rod-like energy core I was (picture a dog’s rawhide chew bone) and began to gently free parts of me. I unfolded like a flower. Each energy being let the delicate petals fill like a sail or a sheet fresh from the dryer, but like petals also, until I was surrounded by them. Then there was another row of petals emerging above that, and another. The outlines of the petals were dots of light with connecting lines of energy, and the petals themselves were formed of pulsing networks of energy. There was no substance; only beautiful energy. I was light; I was fluttering free.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, this is supposed to be a flower, blossoming out. And there were<br />
six or eight spirits around me.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I don’t know if this was before the petals or after (Nora didn’t want to hear about the shower at the time the image first came to me), but I was showered with drops of light blue water that remained droplets as they passed through primarily my left side. A golden light shone down on my right. Both cleansed me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">My main guide, the blue Michael, thinks I’m silly as I flutter. “A delightful child,” he calls me, because I have a lot of growing to do. Eventually I go to a classroom. There’s about eight or ten or so others there and an instructor (Gabriel; a female) at a blackboard in front. (Nora said, "Ah, she's female. Gabrielle." But no, she was "Gabriel." I have no idea if she was the archangel, but if Michael can hang around me, then I'm also pleased that THE Gabriel was there as a teacher. Even if she's not The Big Guy, I'm glad to have her as a teacher.) Everything is transparent. I can look out and see roadways with streams of spirit people living their lives, strolling where they want/need to go. They don’t distract me from my lessons. (How I love to learn!) Neither am I distracted by the small balls of energy that scamper through the room in bounds now and then. “Puppiiies!” I squeal. I looked for kittens but didn’t see any.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Gabriel teaches us about imagination and visualization. It’s all interesting and not at all confusing. One of my fellow students is a Michael that I’ll refer to as My Michael, to differentiate him from Archangel Michael, who’s one of my main guides and always around me. (He’s a great, funny guy.) Anyway, My Michael is one of my soul pod, the group of souls that were born at the same time. According to theory, we’ll spend the majority of eternity together in some way; we’re close spirit family. But My Michael has another track to take now and I don’t see him outside the class. “See you soon,” he says as he leaves. (I do think I’ll meet him at some future point in this lifetime. We’re not ready for each other yet.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Nora moves me to another location and this time I see a large banquet table, loaded with all kinds of food. In hindsight I don’t think there were any meat products. It’s like a cocktail party, quite a few souls gathered around the table, enjoying things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">“Life is a banquet,” I’m told, and try not to finish Mame’s statement on the matter because that would be rude. We consciously pick and choose what we’re going to find in life. We enjoy it. We leave some of the good stuff for others to enjoy and we disregard the stuff that doesn’t benefit us. It’s okay to be selfish and choose what we want as long as we keep things in balance, because I’m a great being and so are we all. We all have different tastes, different directions to travel. We reach out and take what helps us achieve the direction we want. We glory in it. Yahoo! Thank you, Universe! And the best part:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">THERE’S PLENTY FOR EVERYONE!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">After a bathroom break I went into what seemed like the <i>USS Enterprise</i>’s conference room. The outer doors even swished to open and close! Here I met with a Council to plan my coming (present) lifetime.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">There’s a large, oval table whose edge frames a screen across most of its top. Elders are seated across from me. The central one has a horned headpiece that looks ceremonial. When I once saw my Higher Self, she wore such a headpiece, but this guy isn’t her and he’s a he. He has four people to either side, with a couple behind them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Their job is to keep everyone, everything in mind, interconnecting things in just the right way. There are almost? infinite possibilities on the table. If we do this, what will happen? If we do that, what will happen? What would be best?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">They ask me what I would like to do and bring me closer so I can look down and see the screen clearly. The left side is rather dark, with a few energy trails running across it. The right holds circles and floods of bright color. I know what it all means, more or less. I can see how the energies are influencing each other in the possible lives to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I know the Council wants what’s best for me, but they aren’t going to control me. They are there to guide and advise. There are souls out there who do have to be controlled because they don’t know what’s going on, but I’m beyond that point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">They tell me that Earth is going through a big change. In addition to what I need to learn and do in my life, I ask that I have a life where I can help the Earth. They point to North America. “I’ve been there,” I say. “I like it.” They also point out that my life after this one will be in Canada, which I’ve already seen in another regression.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">We choose this timeslot because the Sixties were great and you have the moon landing, society changing, and computers, technology, ecology, crazy crazy crazy and I will learn to be calm. We must learn this or we won’t survive. We need a calm focus and to know that we are safe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">We souls set goals for happiness, for all and for ourselves. We take the right road. Things change depending on attitude. Others can find themselves in other dimensions where things go wrong, but you don’t have to do that. Keep good intentions, happy, fulfilling goals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">The right side of the screen is brighter by far. I like one of the paths there. I’ll be an outsider of society, which allows me a different, more intellectual viewpoint than most people have. Cool. I’ll see a world that’s very interesting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">As long as I’m with the Council, Nora has me ask the questions on my list. We’re at the two-hour mark in the session.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">The first you might find interesting. I asked how I can have a worry-free retirement, and was told that to have one of those, just don’t worry. Nora and I laughed heartily at that. Do things I enjoy. Be the banquet. Relax and savor life. “You’ll do fine,” the Council assures me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">They go into more at length with other questions. I ask about my books and they tell me that if I enjoy writing, I should certainly keep it up, which doesn’t sound like I’ll make a bestseller list, but… What the heck. I enjoy writing. They counsel me about art, which looks like an Important Thing coming up. I should work in series; I should paint every day to improve.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">We talk about me doing psychic work, and they reiterate that I should step forward in life using baby steps, baby steps, which work best to overcome procrastination. I should also work in time chunks, scheduling my work and following that schedule. Be organized! Be diligent in keeping to that schedule!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">They chant “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” because they’re energized when they tell me I should be getting up off my butt and going out into the world, going to interesting places that I can paint or just visit. It will also help me lose weight. They aren’t into diets, just eating reasonable serving sizes, and say that getting out into the world will be what does it for me. Savor life, not just food. Natural and organic foods are best. Processed foods are okay in moderation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I should meditate every day. Twenty minutes is about the optimum, and I can build up to that. No, I shouldn’t be a monk who meditates all day long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">At each stage Nora asks the Council and/or guides if they can do anything to help. Almost always I find myself bathed in various colored lights. Sometimes the guides filter out negative energy from my field. I feel a lot better. Lighter. Clearer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">The guides remind me that I can revisit them any time I want. Plus I shouldn’t forget to express gratitude to the Universe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I got a kick out of one question about my books. The entire Council swung in their chairs to reveal that they were reading them! Avidly!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">When I asked if I should take the Big Step and build an art studio, they practically jumped out of their chairs to shout, “YES!!!” Wow! This is a HUGE step I’m to take! They’re even going to send me a chunk of money to help pay for it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">They counsel me on where I should move, and I’m surprised that Delaware comes up. An astrologer had once suggested that, but Delaware has no mountains. The guides said I should check out the place anyway, though they nixed Rocky Mount, VA, which the astrologer had also said held excellent vibes for me. The Northwest… I’ve never been, but I think that’s what I want with the mountains and ocean, but it’s so expensive. Nora asked the guides if they could deal with some of my prosperity issues. This was a lot of negative Mom-related energy coming through, but I got a healing for it and am to use various workshops and books I have at home dealing with the problem to work on myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">They recommended places for me to travel. Again for some reason (this has been happening lately) Norway came up, though other places that have been on my Bucket List for some time were also mentioned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Above all, the guides repeat that I should relax and enjoy life. Every now and then I should stop, take a breath, and notice the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">At almost three hours in we got to my questions about past lives. I was a female during the reign of Hatshepsut of Egypt. I was a textile artist, and amazed that women could be as strong as was the queen. This woman was very nice, with a good sense of humor, and she lived somewhere around Luxor. She issued an invitation to visit; I will!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">In Santorini I was a large, strong man who worked with stone. I think he chopped it up, made mosaics. He had a family and wore a fancy B-movie-type Hollywood headdress. He made a good living at mosaics, and was quite confident. Maybe I’ll see some of his work when I tour Greece.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I visited that poor Irish girl who died at 4 years old in the Irish Potato Famine. Her family just left her behind to die and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand. There was really nothing they could do. I think they were going to America. The mother there was my mother now. I think the girl’s name was Sarah O’Roarke, and she cried, “I’m a good Catholic girl!” Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to good Catholic girls. She felt betrayed, confused, so very hurt. Couldn’t her family have handled it some other way?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I went back to hug her and tell her how much she’s loved. I’ve done it before; I’ve done it since (with Willy in tow; he says his anger came from her fear). She perked up and filled out a bit. She’s cute as a button, but skinny. We’ll all go traveling together and hug a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Then she began dancing. In wooden shoes. “I think she’s pointing me to another life,” I said, and sure enough, there I was in full female Dutch costume, dancing somewhere in Holland, in one of the larger cities, I think. I wonder if this ties into the spirit that hung over my shoulder when I attended a "Rembrandt and His Studio" show in Raleigh a few years ago? I was admiring a particularly striking painting and then some ghost guy was at my shoulder, proudly telling me, “I painted that.” Did I know him in that lifetime?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">My Michael might have been in my life in Brazil; we may have been brothers in China. He was definitely in the Flower Lady’s life. She lived in Ohio territory, back in pre-Civil War days. I always see her standing in a field of flowers, troubled by something and looking off into the distance. She was married to My Michael and they had two sons, one of which was also a member of our soul pod. The family was a loving one, and that’s what I need to hold on to, that wonderful energy. For the first time I saw all four of them in their cabin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I’d asked on my sheet if Atlantis were real, but couldn’t see anything in the Mediterranean or Atlantic Ocean. If it did exist, I wasn’t involved. I did see an ancient civilization in the Pacific, around Thailand, and of course really ancient ones in India.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">“I am a traveler from deep space,” I say without thinking. I first came to Earth about 12,000 BC, right in Africa of course, where I lived quite a few lives. I’ve had 36 important lifetimes on Earth. Quite a few, maybe hundreds, of unimportant ones. There are lifetimes where spirits are kind of “cannon fodder,” I once tried to explain to someone. Filler population. Vague people. Maybe this is just a sign of an extremely young soul who’s not quite “awake” yet?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Important lives are where you start making decisions for yourself. The Council advises me: Follow the life you WANT to lead. Choose what you WANT and follow it. Make it your conscious choice. Be deliberate but be open. (I think this is like some people say that when you set your goals, you should always add, “or better” to the request. The Universe does not work its best when it’s hamstrung.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">My guides gave me more blessings and reassured me that I was performing on an A-plus level. I was so optimistic and energized after meeting them! Good folks. Great folks!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">The last bit was looking at Earth. It’s not just humans affecting Earth; the conscious planet is going through its own changes. It’s all part of The Plan. Earth is growing as well. Maybe this crisis is to force us to grow up? My next life will be helping with that. My current life is helping to raise the vibration of humanity so we can evolve healthily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">After that Nora brought me back to the Real World. Whew! What a trip! My guides had told me I’d be meeting them again, and I certainly shall do this many more times, in both professional and personal settings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I went home, fed my fish, and hit the sack though it was early evening and I’d been so energized just two hours before. I was bushed!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">If you’re interested, here’s the page to locate the nearest Newton Institute hypnotherapist: </span><a href="https://www.newtoninstitute.org/locate-a-therapist/" style="color: #954f72;"><span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">https://www.newtoninstitute.org/locate-a-therapist/</span></a><span style="font-family: "tahoma"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Or check New Age types in your area. People don’t have to be trained by the NI to do this kind of thing. My acupuncturist works with a lady who does this as well as reiki.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-27117477922775187402019-06-22T09:44:00.002-04:002019-06-22T18:13:15.349-04:00She's a legitimate Wonder!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5YYZqe8suO-cJyaCyvUDhkTzyuqWO-LBYM5W8udkQ9dwvljXhUBPr_5dd36x8AnvcdRLK8A50sS2Z3yLF6NmJVYIAZIFmpWUNHCVxDK3ZTcSrb40wdy3mdf-XzLc0z_gP9EUMg8hsMUg/s1600/wonderfamilyportrait.ww153.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="1108" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5YYZqe8suO-cJyaCyvUDhkTzyuqWO-LBYM5W8udkQ9dwvljXhUBPr_5dd36x8AnvcdRLK8A50sS2Z3yLF6NmJVYIAZIFmpWUNHCVxDK3ZTcSrb40wdy3mdf-XzLc0z_gP9EUMg8hsMUg/s400/wonderfamilyportrait.ww153.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm working hard on my nonfiction Wonder Woman book, and have just spent over three weeks sweating my way through a chapter about Donna Troy. You know: Wonder Woman's younger sister, Wonder Girl, Troia, Troy, whoever. The journey has left me a half-bottle of aspirin shier than before.<br />
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What's the prob, you might ask, you non-Donna fan, you. Well, Donna -- who didn't have a civilian name back then and just went by "Wonder Girl" -- first appeared in an era that held Impossible Stories. These began when Wonder Woman's mother, Queen Hippolyta, had some free time and spliced together home movies of her only daughter at different ages: adult, teen, and kindergarten-aged. We got a couple adventures of these "Impossible Tales" before the staff became lazy about labelling them as such. This might possibly have tied into the fact that they seemed to be popular, appearing more and more often until they were the norm. The majority had zero mention of "Impossible" whatever. Some had a line here and there. Some had that line completely contradicted, as when Diana would introduce a story about herself as a teenager, but that story included both her adult self and the teenaged Wonder Girl at the same time.<br />
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Perhaps some of the staff were on overprescribed meds.<br />
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By <i>WW</i> issue #123 Wonder Girl was consistently (or as consistent as it got during Wondie's Silver Age) treated as a separate person from Diana. She had glorious adventures and stupid adventures. It was the Silver Age! Wonder Girl became such a reader favorite that she took over two covers of the magazine so it was now "Wonder Woman presents WONDER GIRL."<br />
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I hopped onto the Wondie wagon during this era, not knowing anything that had come before, other than that WW was a member of the Justice League. Wonder Girl and Wonder Tot were her sisters; these stories said so.<br />
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In 1965, issue #158, editor/writer Kanigher (whose dislike for Wondie was well known) broke the fourth wall and announced that all having to do with the Wonder Family was being shelved, except that he was keeping Queen Hippolyta, Diana, and Steve Trevor (i.e., sales were falling and there had to be a concept change to attract new readers, just as the Wonder Family had been).<br />
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Apparently he didn't realize that <i>Brave and Bold</i> #60, which had appeared <i>earlier</i> that year, starred Wonder Girl as part of DC's Fab Four, the Teen Titans. WG would continue with them from then on.<br />
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Most comic book historians say (without solid explanation) that <i>B&B</i> #60 was WG's first appearance, and credit the character to that issue's Bob Haney and Bruno Premiani. But this character had been lifted whole -- 100% -- from the <i>Wonder Woman</i> book. Saying that WG was a creation of Haney & Premiani would be like saying the original Captain Marvel was created by O'Neil and Beck instead of Parker and Beck at Fawcett because they had produced the first DC book with Cap. It was the same name, but the character was 100% lifted from the Fawcett run and plunked into DC. O'Neil had no hand in creating Captain Marvel.<br />
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Thus we CANNOT say that <i>B&B</i> was Donna's first appearance. The character was created by Kanigher, Andru & Esposito. If you claim that WG was, up to that point, an illegitimate, "Impossible" character, then so was the one who appeared in the early Titans stories. SHE WAS THE SAME CHARACTER. We must cast all those funky TT tales as illegitimate because of her presence.<br />
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Then when WAS Donna's first appearance? Was it <i>Teen Titans</i> #22 at the dawn of the Bronze Age when we got another (yes, there was one before this, but it is forgettable) origin for her and she received a civilian name? This story told us that of everyone on Earth, Donna was the ONLY person Amazon Training had never worked on (AT works on everyone!) and that she received her powers via a science fiction ("legitimate") device, the Purple Ray. Years later would come a story in which Donna was saved because her power came not from some sci fi device, but from Amazon Training. Which was correct? Which character was legitimate?<br />
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The next origin assured us that it was DIANA who was Donna's guardian, not the queen. Thus Donna was no longer Diana's sister, though stories forgot that a lot. We got a garbled, overwrought story that piled up parent after parent in Donna's past until everything was confused. Was this Donna's first appearance?<br />
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The next origin invoked the Titan-gods and made Donna a "Titan seed," or adoptive child who would be one of the next generation of gods. Was this the true Donna's first appearance? Must we throw out all Titan adventures before this because their Donna was an "illegitimate" character? Must we toss the concept of Donna and Diana being, at some point, sisters?<br />
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The two didn't become sisters again until the John Byrne origin in 1998, in which Donna became just a magical clone of Diana and subjected to the tortures Byrne loved to perpetrate on his female characters. This Donna was Diana's twin, but she was never Hippolyta's daughter, as they kept Donna's true nature secret from the queen.<br />
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So fans foolishly seeking absolute consistency (ha!) with Donna cite <i>B&B</i> #60. Some think so just because someone else assured them this was true. By this time there are enough internet citations stating this starting point as fact, though I haven't seen a good explanation how the chroniclers have arrived at this conclusion.<br />
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For others, I suspect it's because the <i>B&B</i> comic also held male comics characters not associated with Wonder Woman. The other Titans were male, and so often that quality is required for some people to deem something, well, legitimate. That's my theory about why military hero Steve Trevor played an important role in early WW stories: to supply legitimacy to the female lead so that young boys would feel they could read the book without getting cooties. In this Wonder Girl case Wonder Woman and her family's adventures were given short shrift because... girls. Fluff. They were unimportant without some male imbuing his seal of patriarchal approval to things. Enter the male Titans; legitimate!<br />
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If fans respect the Wondie mythos, they also respect the value of good and even great stories within that mythos. The Wonder Family had some of those, and many starred Wonder Girl. The "Impossible Tale" label was put on only a few of these stories, and other one-line explanations that appeared here and there almost never made sense. What made sense was that this was the legitimate, mid-Silver Age Wonder mythos: a family composed of mother and three daughters.<br />
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You may toss lettercol and "Who's Who" explanations in the mix, but these occur OUTSIDE the mythos. Intention doesn't matter; it's what appears on the actual comics page that counts.<br />
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<i>Wonder Woman</i> #123 (July 1961) is the first appearance of Wonder Girl, aka Donna Troy. Her creators were Robert Kanigher and the art team of Andru & Esposito.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-28612081060515031642018-10-17T08:52:00.001-04:002018-10-17T08:52:15.654-04:00Transmogrified!<div class="Style7" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 14.4pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.7pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><i>Another excerpt! This one's from </i><a href="http://www.carolastrickland.com/fiction/applesauce.html">Applesauce and Moonbeams,</a><i> a book that takes place at a time when the moon is slowly getting settled by humankind. Our Hero, David, is a telepathic psychiatrist who is on the run after he's taken on a mob boss. A telepathic hit man has attacked David just as Our Hero gets onto a lunar shuttle about to take off.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Slowly the world swirled around David, as if he were still in his strange dream. A faraway scream echoed through the haze. He felt dislocated, out of touch with himself. Alien.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He clamped his eyes shut and smacked his lips, trying to make the funny taste go away. Furry. Must have been asleep for a month. Had he had a chance to brush his teeth this morning? What was that smell? His nose wouldn’t wrinkle as much as he wanted. Stiff. Instead he opened his mouth slightly and inhaled to let the odor rise to the top of his palate. Smelled like... like musk, with a touch of urine attached. Not entirely unpleasant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He stretched only to find his hands and back were butting up against something solid. Oh right—he’d jumped into that capsule. A woman was already in it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He’d been hiding from something. Someone. Someone had been chasing him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">His breath caught as full consciousness crashed upon him. Kane—that telepath—had tried to take over his mind!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">The memories of battle returned to him. He hadn’t really expected to wake up, but here he was again. <i>I think; therefore, I am.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">I’m alive. I did it!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">But something was wrong. He felt all wrong. Had he given himself a stroke? Surely someone would come along and take him to the hospital. Even with a major stroke he could be himself again in a week or two.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">That faraway sound of screaming came again. His right ear swiveled to seek the source.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">More movement, somewhere outside wherever he was. Now it was his left ear that twitched and rotated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He dared open his eyes. This didn’t look like what he’d pictured the inside of a sleep chamber. He hadn’t noticed the rows of eye-big circles cut into it, revealing bright light and shadows in the room beyond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Whatever it was, that terrible Kane presence wasn’t near. These people had different vibes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“Hey,” he wanted to say, but his voice was a dry croak, a tenor “Eh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He tried clearing his throat. He gave his head a shake. There was something furry in here with him. When he reached out to touch it, it moved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Wait a minute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">He stretched his hand out, flexing his fingers. In front of his eyes, an orangey-yellow paw fitted with a medical tube stretched and flexed. Claws extended slightly, then retracted back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">Oh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">My.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“meeOOOWWWWW!” he cried. “Yoww! Yioww! Mioww! Yoww! Moww!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“Looks like someone’s awake here too,” a female voice from outside said. A large eye peered in through one of the holes. “Hello there, boy. Welcome to Luna. Bet you’re hungry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“Moww! Moww! Moww!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“A real talker. My granny has a talker. Siamese, I think. Is this a Siamese, Pete?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“You don’t know nothing about cats. That’s a plain ginger cat in there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">David might have heard the reply if he weren’t heaving against his restraints, shouting as loudly as he could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“Whups. Kitty doesn’t like his cage. Why can’t they learn to trank these animals enough? What do we got on hand?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“Oh, just let him have his fit. He’ll calm down eventu—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“This is the Applegate cat, Pete. Even you’ve heard of Evie Applegate.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;">“Whoa. Okay, lemme see what I can find.”<o:p></o:p></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m a man! I don’t belong in a cage!” David yelled, but all that came out was cat yowling.</span> </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-63296173972732616032018-10-12T11:44:00.001-04:002018-10-12T11:44:10.726-04:00Diets are a scam!<i>Quite a while ago I wrote a short story... or is it a novella?... called "Nothing to Lose." I put it on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Nothing-Lose-Carol-Strickland-ebook/dp/B003980XCA">Amazon for 99¢</a> and pretty much forgot about it. Lately people have been asking me about it, asking to expand it. After I get through this glut of book-revamping, plus the new book, I just might do that. (Plus I'd correct the crazy formatting! Eek!)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>It's the story about a group of ladies, one in particular, who have </i>weighty<i> issues. Let's join them at a gym that looks a lot like Curves...</i><br />
<i>------</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Pat’s lower lip had begun to protrude farther and farther and I didn’t think it was because we were approaching the leg press again. Her chin wrinkled along with her nose as she thought. We looked at her. Was this a botox moment? She slammed her fists down on the handles of the glute machine and declared, “It’s not us!” She looked hard at each of us in turn. “It’s a curse. A <i>real </i>curse. Magic!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I laughed. Who wouldn’t?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">She pointed at me. “You said it yourself. The physics doesn’t make sense. That’s science, right? If it’s not scientific, it’s not true. OR it’s magic.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">LaDawn tapped her chin thoughtfully instead of doing the required climbing motions for her board. “I never thought of it that way before. Could be.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Magic,” I scoffed. “If it were just that, some wizard would be making a fortune curing people.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Maybe someone is,” LaDawn said. “Maybe they’re keeping it on the downlow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> “Why? So they don’t have to become a multi-millionaire?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Pat poked the air in front of her as if it were someone’s chest. “It’s so they’re not overrun by people, tearing down their front doors. Begging them to do the job.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“I know a wizard in Atlanta and she keeps busy. Very busy,” Charlotte said. “Her whole family has been well off for generations. She can afford to turn down business if she wants. I decorated her main parlor,” she confided. “She gave me an unlimited budget. Oh, my.” A wistful smile lit her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Look,” I tried to reason, “if being fat was something magic there’d be a rumor about it at least. I’ve never heard anyone claim this was a curse. You know me; I’m always on the Internet looking for new diets. I tell you, I’d know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Do any of those diets of yours work?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Ah...” It took me a while to go through the long list in my head. “That Adkins thing worked for a month or six weeks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Charlotte waved her perfectly-manicured nails at me. “Well, I do not want something that only lasts six weeks. I want forever.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“And I wouldn’t mind it being easy, either,” LaDawn put in. “Diets are too hard. They make me crazy when I’m on them. Give me some magic with some chocolate and maybe a little scotch every day, and I’ll be happy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">You couldn’t argue with that. Could you?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">If I'm going to be expanding this, I need to hear funny stories about how people have tried to lose weight. Did </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">it</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> work? Did it not? What was your (or a friend's) experience?</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-43413097433319688942018-10-01T09:24:00.000-04:002018-10-01T09:24:57.531-04:00Danger! Explosions! Desert island!<div class="BodyNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 14pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">It's Monday, so I'll post an excerpt. This time it's from </i><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10.5pt; font-style: italic;">Touch of Danger</b><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">, the first volume in the Three Worlds Saga. This is the book you get free when you sign up for my seldom-appearing newsletter. Yep, this book has SUPERHEROES. But here our super guy, Londo (aka Valiant) has just helped our timid (but psychic) heroine, Lina, escape a burning hotel on an island in the south Pacific. Lon's had most of his powers temporarily stripped from him by Bad. Guys, and has dislocated his shoulder in the escape. He has also discovered that everyone else at the hotel has </i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><i>mysteriously</i></span></span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"> disappeared. Let's peek at the two: </i></div>
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He turned back to her and took her measure from a more professional standpoint. Was there anything in her open and rather inept body language that disguised deceit? “Except you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“What? Where are all the others?” She snapped to attention, her gaze raking the windows and grounds of the hotel. “But just thirty or forty minutes ago, there were maybe six people in the pool, another fifteen or so just walking around. I was surprised because it was so early. There was a big group of Australians or New Zealanders here, some sort of convention. They were all men. Creepy men. They’ve been running around drunk all night. I bet you anything one of them started this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>Eh bien</i>, they’re not here now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“That’s impossible,” the girl said flatly. “They must be on the other side of the hotel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was no one trapped in any windows. Lon’s paravision still operated to an extent. Through the fog of smoke the beach showed deserted as well. The girl ran across the lawn to the other side of the building and the gravel parking lot there—empty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lon followed her, holding his mangled arm and grunting. “We need to get out of here,” he told her. “The reason I’m powerless—”<o:p></o:p></div>
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As she turned to face him her eyes went wide. She sucked in a breath and leapt for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Get down!” she yelled, taking him down with her onto the sharp gravel with no regard for his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Ba-whu-whoom!</i>A curtain of fire and glass, cement and wood splinters blasted through the smoke.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Valiant looked up through the pain to see a sheet of glass flying through the space he’d just been taking up. If he had been standing there—<o:p></o:p></div>
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The girl put her palm on his forehead and pushed down. “There’s something else,” she said, and then another explosion went off, this one even closer than the last.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Shock wave! A wall of air lifted them up and threw them across the hotel lawn. He heard her cry out as she landed, but then he did, too. It felt like someone sledge hammered his shoulder. All his senses except touch blanked as agony jolted through him down to his feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He shouted his torment. Tears of pain ran down his face. <i>Stop it, stop it! Get control!</i>He was still alive. He needed to protect the girl!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cracking his burning eyes open, he squinted back at the hotel. Everything was gone—leveled. Only piles of cement blocks and debris remained. A pea-soup haze of yellow dust left from disintegrating masonry swirled in a sour, choking cloud he could feel as distinct particles when he breathed. Where was the girl? Londo coughed through the filter of his hand as he peered around.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A hundred feet from him the ocean breeze lifted the dust-covered hem of her nightie, but she lay very still.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In his life he’d seen far too many other still bodies.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-78831868598116093552018-09-24T09:15:00.001-04:002018-09-24T09:15:35.868-04:00Meet Nuke!<i>I'm going to start to publish excerpts from my novels every now and then. Here's one from the latest, </i><b style="font-style: italic;">Nothing Personal.</b><i> Our first-person hero, Tam, has been kidnapped (well, she thinks of it as that) from Earth and dumped without explanation onto a space station somewhere far west of Nowhere. It's taken her time to get used to things, to begin to learn the local language... and mainly to get to know her alien fellow citizens. "Gimigols" and "doils" are the predominant Sauropsida (okay, lizards and birds) (I think) (wanted to impress you) types present.</i><i> Here we go:</i><br />
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“Evening, Nuke,” I said as I made my way up the walk to my door. That much of the language I had zero problem with.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Evening.” The sidewalk may have shaken a little at the low, booming register of his voice. Then again, it could have been my imagination.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nuke was my neighbor, and yes, that name was not a translation. “Nuke.” It fit him so well. We lived in a subsidized duplex on Level 20, just off the edges of the business district in a surprisingly homey neighborhood. Most of our neighbors were gimigols or doils, the two saur species that make up the vast majority of the station’s population.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But Nuke was in a class all his own.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Where a gimigol will stand, oh, eight feet tall or so, Nuke stood at twelve-plus, the height of your average doil. Unlike a doil, Nuke didn’t look like a Big Bird reject at the toy factory. He had been based on the Dino-like gimigol physiology, but genetically restructured. Half as wide as he was tall, he had longer legs than your average gimigol, and was packed with solid muscle. He also had an extra set of arms.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nuke didn’t like to discuss his past, but I’d heard he had been bred and raised to be a super soldier. He was deep blue, bulky as a pro wrestler on ultra steroids. Armored somewhat like a bollink, taloned like a doil, with a tail and heft of a gimigol, he could swear fluently in thirty languages– or so he claimed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He terrified the other saurs on the station. He certainly did me, the first time I saw him. I’d walked up to my new apartment with my knapsack of mostly nothing on my back, and he had emerged onto the porch from his door. I came to a stop, looking up. And up. Homina homina…<o:p></o:p></div>
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For lack of anything else to do and since there was no way in hell I was going to give up this place, I bared my teeth and hissed at him in a friendly manner.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He’d been looking me over like his mere gaze could scour my flesh. Slowly he revealed his mighty fangs and gave a roar of a hiss.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So he didn’t like me, huh? I grimaced and did my best roaring hiss back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“That’s better,” he growled. “You have a terrible accent.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes I think he scared himself, because every now and then he’d take a day off work just to meditate for hours in a remote section of the station, calm himself down. Then he would emerge again to repair whatever damage he’d done to his walls and then lounge in his chair on the porch, watching the world go by. Everyone else gave him a wide berth. A very wide berth.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you have any requests for which book you'd like to see excerpts from, or what kind of excerpts you'd like to see (action, romance, etc.), just give a yell!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-28880227403256100982018-08-25T16:51:00.001-04:002018-09-01T10:16:04.570-04:00North... to Newfoundland!<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">This is Goose Cove, Newfoundland (practically at the very top of the island), where we discovered some interesting things floating in the water. Where am I? See Svetlana there in the green jacket? See the smiling lady behind her? I'm the sunglasses behind her.</span></td></tr>
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Where to begin? How about in the early 1960’s? My dad was stationed at Harmon AFB, Newfoundland, Canada back then. It was on the southwestern edge of the island, next to Stephenville, which is on your map below. By the time I was in first grade, something called the Cuban Missile Crisis came up and he had 13 days to transfer the family to his southerly next assignment: Minot AFB, ND.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So I was really too young to remember much about Newfoundland. I could recall a fishy-smelling dock or beach, a strange, muddy back yard (guess who fell into what?) (it was a classmate’s birthday party. I missed out on most of it by having to sit in someone’s laundry room, feeling like I’d done something terribly wrong), playing with the Canadian local kids in a lush field of buttercups, getting scared out of my gourd at some kind of Girl Scout? camp in a shadowy shack with water running underneath it, listening to one of those camp ghost stories; plus some flashes of kindergarten, going on my very first diet (first grade!)… but that was it. My parents had taken an 8mm movie of a boat trip to Deer Lake, so I either remembered the actual trip or I remembered watching it later. (A few years ago I transferred every last one of their movies onto a DVD. I think there was about fifteen minutes of stuff in total.)<o:p></o:p><br />
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A couple years after we moved, people found evidence of Norsemen having settled in Newfoundland, just like the old sagas claimed. Norsemen!!! Leif Ericson was real! At that point I hadn’t heard of Leif yet, nor of his dad, Eric the Red. Decades later that settlement discovery spurred me to search for bus trips through Newfoundland--but they were LONG bus trips. Good grief, why so long? They should be three days at most. It’s just an island! Those tours must be trying to gouge people.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Years went by. Still no short trips to be found. Then every time I turned on the TV it seemed they were showing travelogues about Nfld. It looked really pretty. If I went I’d get LOTS and LOTS of pictures of those quaint fishing villages the travelogues kept showing that could be made into paintings. And remember those Norsemen! Woof!<o:p></o:p></div>
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So even though I’d JUST taken a trip to Alaska in August of 2017, I booked a 2018 July trip to Newfoundland. They’re about the same latitude, I thought. (WRONG: Nfld is much farther south.) I’d be seeing lots of whales again, but what the heck. I could check it off my bucket list.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Turns out that island’s pretty damn BIG. You can drive for hours and hours between tourist spots. There’s also a bathroom problem… But more on that later.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Day 1<o:p></o:p></div>
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As usual, one has to drag oneself out of bed in the wee, wee hours of the night when taking off from RDU. All my alarms (what if the electricity goes off? What if I didn’t set one right?) went off correctly, I turned off the things I was supposed to before leaving on a long trip, and I made it to the airport, where I had a very nice breakfast.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Toronto has Customs: I racked up 12,000+ steps that first day, though I mostly sat on planes. A good five miles of that was jogging through Customs. (It was even longer on the way back.) If you’re stopping in Toronto between countries, schedule a good half-hour just for this! If you have problems walking long distances, pre-arrange some kind of transportation assistance. I was sweating as I had a fairly quick connection to catch and the walk never seemed to have an ending. Funny thing: When I finally emerged into the terminal proper and looked at the boards, my flight number to Halifax was off by 2. At least my boarding pass had gotten the time correct.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Do I have to say it? There were TWO flights to Halifax, both leaving at the SAME TIME, their flight numbers different by 2. Of course MY flight was at the OPPOSITE end of the airport from the other one. Sheesh! But I skidded in to the gate just in time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After a brief layover in Halifax’s tiny airport we flew to Deer Lake, Nfld. That and St. John’s and Gander seem to be the only “big” airports on the island, though they aren’t that big at all. They’re even about to downsize Gander because of lack of traffic. Gander was once the largest airport in the WORLD, back when it was the primary refueling stop for air traffic between the Americas and Europe. (Our tour director told us that people plotted the most efficient placement for a fuel stop and sent engineers out on the [then operating] Nfld railroad with orders to hop off at Mile Whatever and begin digging. That became Gander.)<o:p></o:p><br />
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We had a garrulous, semi-retired taxi driver from the airport, whom I sat next to. He drove us by Deer Lake. We passed GORGEOUS views of the lake, plus bare-rock mountains with springs sparkling down their sides. The sun was out; could that be guaranteed when we’d be back this way on the tour? Ah, the shining, happy rivers called to me. I said the heck with it; my vacation had officially begun, and reached for my carry-on to find my camera.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Whirr. Click. Whirr. Whirr. The lens came out and then retreated. Came out and retreated. A red light blinked on the side. I’d seen this before. I think when I was on the beach a couple years back, some hard-blowing sand got into the camera lens extender. Whenever this whirr-click happened, a blast of canned air would keep the camera working. I thought I’d cleared it all out, but now recalled that the camera had been cranky the month before. I’d blown it back into operation then, but now I had no canned air in my luggage.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hour one of vacation and no camera. (Yes, I have a smart phone, but I hate taking pictures on it. There’s no control, no really good zoom. It’s also extremely difficult to transfer the photos to my computer. Plus I’m afraid of my smart phone.) Argh.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I tried to figure out what time it was. Newfoundland Time is 1½ hours earlier than Eastern. No, I don’t know who came up with that foolishness. Wiki says it’s because Nfld wasn’t a part of Canada when time zones were invented. They’re actually in the eastern half of the Atlantic time zone. So why aren’t they on Atlantic time? <a href="https://qz.com/357697/time-zone-deviants-part-i-the-strangest-time-zones-in-the-world/">Here’s a nice discussion</a> of odd times, beginning with Nfld. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3RKYI9oh6HZZqtF3tWRBV9VjWCJ2_5bqY4RnxCpep7P6P5d8IYO1NOUAGTI3JXttVgprfSfWFw6nG6SSMcnBlNIEOW7dE8rG-1gYHpF5OOjPPIC8Y8kbAeDFoDLTHjv6Op_4sPKcQPYA/s1600/hotel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3RKYI9oh6HZZqtF3tWRBV9VjWCJ2_5bqY4RnxCpep7P6P5d8IYO1NOUAGTI3JXttVgprfSfWFw6nG6SSMcnBlNIEOW7dE8rG-1gYHpF5OOjPPIC8Y8kbAeDFoDLTHjv6Op_4sPKcQPYA/s320/hotel.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hotel in Corner Brook. Note the, uh, handicapped ramps? Or lack of same.</td></tr>
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We arrived in Corner Brook. I had to attend to the camera problem. The town had two small shopping centers; at least one would have someplace I could get a cheap camera. Cue: Walmart. It was a $10+ cab ride (plus tip) there. Pick up a $99 camera, which was a newer model than a cheap camera I’d had years ago, a camera that had taken both good pictures and lousy ones with no reason behind the two results. This beggar couldn’t be a chooser. Double check the box. Yes, it was rechargeable, so I didn’t need to buy a battery, phew. Got my phone out to call the cab, since I’d been smart enough to get the guy’s business card. Phone didn’t work. Though I’m on the two largest carriers, It. Didn’t. Work. Turns out Nfld isn’t covered by them. Luckily for me, the run-down Walmart had two wall phones that were direct lines to two cab companies. ??? I’d never seen that before. People must take a LOT of taxis in Corner Brook. As I waited for mine to arrive, many drove up to deposit people at the store.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Okay, so it was another cab ride back to the hotel. I get the camera packaging undone and… Wait. I can’t use my SD card in it. It takes something called a MINI-SD. Arrrgh.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Another cab back to Wally World. The clerks in electronics laughed to see me back and also studied the camera paperwork to make sure that I now had EVERYTHING I’d need. Mini-SD that held the maximum memory that camera allowed: $25. Okay. Right? They conferred some more. Right. Okay. They waved goodbye. Hope that one clerk realizes his dream of living in Florida and joining the WWF. (???)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyone keep track of what that camera cost so far? Four taxi rides, tips for all, camera, SD. I kept telling myself that this was a trip that was planned as a photo safari. In my head I just added the camera etc. to the cost of the tour, which didn’t make it seem so bad. The tiny camera barely took the first twist of the screw on my camera strap (absolutely the best buy I made to prepare for that Alaska trip), so I took great care to wrap the hand strap around it so it couldn’t fall off. (One month later: You should see the gorgeous replacement camera I got from QVC! On sale! So far I know how to turn it on and off, do the zoom thing, click the pic, and set the time and date.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Day 2:<o:p></o:p></div>
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We began fairly early. Our hard-working tour director was Annette. Our fearless bus driver was Rod. This was the bus’ first trip, all shiny and new. Let’s check out the big map of Newfoundland. First, the province is properly called Newfoundland and Labrador, NL. On the island (“The Rock”) you’ll notice that there aren’t that many highways. Good roads are new there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our route would take us up and down 2/3 of the western coast but we’d use the same highway most of the time. We’d take a ferry to Labrador, come back, hit that highway again up and down and then eventually cut east across the center to take the eastern highway north and south. The west coast has the Viking Trail; the east coast has the Discovery Trail to honor John Cabot. The west coast has its roots firmly with the French; the east coast, with the British. West coast has beaches; east, cliffs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There are a surprising number of tourism places of interest in NL. There’s l’Anse aux Meadows, which is the <i>veldig kult</i> (très cool) Norse landing spot. There’s the easternmost point in North America. The oldest ceremonial grave in the Western Hemisphere. Bits concerning Capt. Cook and John Cabot. Newfoundland was England’s very first colony, so you see that celebrated. The edge of the world is supposed to be right off the northeast coast but our tour didn’t go that far, drat. After that there’re various fishing/seal museums, one Maritime Archaic, Dorset, Paleoeskimo, and pre-Beothuk museum, whale-watching and puffin-watching tours, as well as a good amount of blue icebergs drifting close to shore. And there are thousands of miles of wondrous beach scenery.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We were told to instruct others not to tour Newfoundland in September or later. Whales, puffins and icebergs are gone by then.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harbor at St. John's.</td></tr>
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There are VERY few rest stops. VERRRRY few. In Alaska when you get in the middle of nowhere and it’s been a while since motorists were allowed a rest break, you find pit toilets, which are in effect outhouses with non-flush, metal cones with a toilet seat attached that are cleaned out regularly, and often (not always) come with Purell and toilet paper. I was assured that Newfoundland people didn’t go for that newfangled pit toilet idea. As a result, we had to keep circling back to hit the few flush toilets there were on our route.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Ex: We began our tour with Corner Brook. Then it was back to the hotel for a rest stop. Then out west to a harbor and lunch (toilets in a church), then back to the hotel. When we began to drive north we kept doubling back to hit the same hotels and park centers to use their facilities. Yes, our bus had a bathroom but it’s stressed on every bus tour, any company you take, that those are for emergency use only. And yes, the average age of the people on our bus was likely the upper 60s, low 70s. When you gotta go, you gotta go!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Restaurants and hotels are also difficult to find, though Newfoundland is beginning a tourism boom and is catering to this far more than they did a mere handful of years ago. Bus tours are limited by the number of available hotel beds, or there’d be a LOT more buses.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corner Brook</td></tr>
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Like I said, we began in Corner Brook. This is a large bowl of land centered around a fjord and a paper mill – one that’s closing in the next few months after almost 100 years of operation. As the sun came out of the clouds, high above the little city we explored a park dedicated to Captain James Cook. You’ll remember him: he was instrumental in mapping things so that the British could capture Canada back in 1789. Right after that he began charting the coast of Newfoundland, and continued for five years. Afterward, probably to warm up, he took off for New Zealand and Hawaii, where he met his doom. His statue overlooks a stunning view up and down Newfoundland’s fjords.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After a quick stop back at the hotel for toilets, we went out west along the Humber Arm to the Bay of Islands: islands named after Capt. Cook’s ships: Lark Harbor, York Harbor, and such. Due to the lack of restaurants (there’s a story Annette told us about the local “Sandwich Nazi” who had once blessed her out something awful, apologized the next year, but certainly lost Annette’s business), we had arranged for a church to make sandwiches for our lunch (and provide restroom facilities). They only offered two platters of triangular white-on-white sandwiches that didn’t go far with our pack of 33, and instead filled the meeting room with desserts (one of which was FABulous!!) and handicrafts to sell. I don’t think anyone bought any of the latter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Globus (the tour company) had told us to bring about $200CAD to pay for the lunches the tour didn’t furnish. This lunch was $6. I was in line behind one of the three loud-mouthed tour guys (there's always someone), who paid in American money. He laughed as he did it. It was good American money, wasn’t it? The church clerk gave a pained chuckle and said she thought she might know a collector who would take it. Ugly Americans!!! Please, don’t be this guy. I doubt if he’d appreciate if someone paid him in Canadian cash back in Texas. I put an extra tip in their tip jar to try to make up for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We passed lots of places where the roads and bridges had had to be hurriedly rebuilt because of recent floods. There had been a LOT of snow in January, followed by a strange and sudden melt that had sent everything flowing to the sea as fast as it could. One town we went through had been cut off from civilization for seven days. Helicopters had to take dialysis patients to treatment and to bring in food.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nfld had gotten about six inches of snow just two days before I arrived (late June). Despite the summer heat, some still stuck to high ridges.<o:p></o:p><br />
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I walked along the beautiful beach at small, circular Bottle Cove where I could look beyond the bounding ridges and see the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The place looked like I’d imagined the Pillars of Hercules: two rock ridges almost coming together, opening into the larger ocean.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was windy but otherwise quite nice. We had very warm days and very cool ones and some that were both very cool and very windy. St. John’s, which is on the south side of Nfld, is the same latitude as Paris. Think of the island as about the 50<sup>th</sup>-plus degree of latitude. Anchorage in southern Alaska is about 60 degrees. It also rains a lot.<o:p></o:p></div>
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All along the route and by all kinds of people we were reminded that many, many Newfoundlanders commute almost 4000 miles to Ft. Murray, Alberta and the filthy oil sands there, along with the supporting businesses. Apparently those jobs pay very well. Many are six months on, six off, and people return home to Newfoundland, which is growing some very nice houses compared to what was there twenty or even ten years ago. The cod industry is still (sorry) floundering, due to the cod ecosystem collapsing thirty years ago. Though there was a moratorium, fishing cod is still difficult. There’s oil out there, though, so many Newfoundlanders (we were warned not to call them “Newfies.” Only a Newfie can say that word) work for oil, either locally or by the long commute to Alberta.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We returned to Corner Brook and the hotel for another night. Walking next to the woods above a small lake there in the late afternoon, I got a whiff of spruce that took me right back to Headless Hattie. That was the ghost story I’d heard way back when in that Girl Scout hut. Brr! It was a variation of the Twain Golden Arm story, but with a sawmill and people whose heads weren’t sawn <i>quite </i>all the way off, allowing great visual portrayal. (Picture Hogwarts’ Nearly Headless Nick, only through a preschooler’s terrified imagination.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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For dinner I walked up and then over, over, over, over to Shez [sic] West (on West St.), which had been recommended by just about everyone but warned that it was expensive. After that walk I was prepared to pay just about anything. Phew! They were open! I was the first/only customer there and sat down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“What would you like to drink?” the hostess asked me. “Wait. I can tell by your accent [I have an accent?] that you want iced tea. I just finished brewing some.” Aiee! Iced tea – PROPER iced tea – in Canada! And it was GOOOOD. Shez West: recommended! There were mutant carrots in my salad, crosswise cut and a good five inches wide. Oh my, that northern growing season! It was an extremely reasonably priced and tasty seafood meal and I may have stuffed myself a bit more than I should have, burp. THIS was the meal I had imagined filling my vacation, the kind of dining that would take place in Newfoundland. Ah, if only that had been the case…<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next day we began to travel west on a road we hadn’t yet travelled and then north along Route 430, which would become the Viking Trail (“Canada’s Most Scenic Drive”). We stopped for this and that: beautiful harbors, lighthouses, Gros Morne Natl. Park (home of some lovely mountain range scenery). Too quickly all the harbors and lighthouses began to run together. For some we had high wind and bright sun. For others it was chilly, still overcast. Most of the time we saw glorious seascape after glorious beachscape out the bus windows. I was on the ocean side of the bus, yay. On our way back, due to daily seat rotation, I’d be on the land side, but it was raining hard that day so what did I care?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This beach is nothing but hand-sized stones. It is VERY close to Shallow Bay Beach, which is sandy.</td></tr>
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There are so many places on bus tours where you want the bus to stop so you can hop out and take pictures. Nope, you can’t do that. There were just so many pretty vistas! Eastern – or northern, for that matter – Nfld would make a nice place to visit for a prolonged plein air painting expedition some day. THAT’S what bus tours are good for: quick overviews of a place you’ve never been to, so you can decide what needs more exploration later, say, after retirement.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I saw buttercups that I remembered from my childhood as the wind ROARED around a pretty lighthouse. One local tour guide said that because Nfld only had six native mammals, it could make up for it with astounding variation in plant [and bird] life. I only noted the same flowers over and over (except for one show-off tree that was blooming in purple falls of blossom), but I will say that the round dandelion seed heads were the largest by far that I’ve ever seen!<o:p></o:p></div>
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That night we stayed at the Plum Point Inn, which claimed to have wifi. It didn’t work worth beans. Very few hotels in Nfld had decent wifi. I had taken a short video at one beach, and it took DAYS before we stayed somewhere with enough wifi to post it to Facebook.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Out on the road there are not that many choices for dinner, so usually we ordered via Annette’s menus, which she then called in two or three days in advance. Some meals were included; some weren’t. If I had to make a guess, I’d say that the meals that weren’t included were in areas where one could theoretically find another restaurant within fifteen minutes from where the bus stopped, which wasn’t all that great a choice because our meal stops were usually only an hour or so. I suppose the meals where we had really different choices on what to eat were the ones not included. I mean, there’s a daze to bus travel where after a certain point you do what they tell you to do. One hour for lunch. Bathrooms over there. Pay for lunch, don’t pay for lunch. You have three choices for dinner; pick one. Take for example, this one meal where I chose (two days before) the salmon chowder, which was divine. I also ordered the salisbury steak, which turned out to be bleah meatloaf.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was a guy on the tour who boasted that he had every kind of drug known to mankind in his suitcase, and that if anyone needed anything he could furnish it. He also bought a LOT of booze. He is partially handicapped, I guess, as we got out a wheelchair for him when pavement allowed it. His wife had her bald head wrapped in a scarf. She’d recently had a hysterectomy and one day was not feeling good. We had to call a taxi from St. Anthony (which has a large medical complex) to meet us at the turn-off to l’Anse to take her to the hospital. St. Anthony checked her and said that she was good to go back to the tour, but days later when we all got to St. John’s the couple immediately went to see a doctor. They returned that night. A few days later they were due on a cruise.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Annette told us about one tour with a guy who had chest pains in the middle of the night. She had to arrange for an ambulance. At the local medical facility they recommended he go to St. Anthony, so she arranged a helicopter. Once at St. Anthony, they sent him back to the States for better medical treatment.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puffins. These were just off the east coast, if I recall correctly. I DO remember that the sea was really rough and I had to hang on tightly in fear of being tossed overboard. We only saw one whale well, and she was circling the quiet bay where the boat dock was. There MIGHT have been other whales out to sea, but of course I looked too late to see them. Sigh.</td></tr>
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She was always scheduling things, making sure we had everything we needed. Meals needed to be ordered three days in advance. She’d call restaurants etc first thing in the morning – as in 4 or 5:00 – to remind them we were coming, then an hour or so before we arrived. This did not make an impression on too many of the establishments we went to, but she could legitimately yell at them if something screwed up and they would try to give her excuses. Some of the places the tour used to frequent had been dropped due to poor service, and we were trying out some new places to see how they functioned. She said she averaged about four hours of sleep a night, and that was all she needed. Her luggage was a tiny carry-on, the size of a large purse.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yeesh, too many early starts! After Plum Point we had to catch the first ferry to Labrador, which meant for me that if I wanted to be ready to go I had to get up at 4:30, and I wasn’t quite acclimated to the time zone yet. The second time we had to catch the ferry I lounged in bed until 5 AM. Most days I got up at 5:30. On my vacation. Ugh.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One day we’d have roaring wind and rain! The next, as in the day we went to Labrador: fog. The ferry people said they’d had pea soup fog for six weeks. They’d blow the foghorn and it was eerie. The back of the boat saw some whales, but unlike whale-watching expeditions, no one spread the word so I didn’t see them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We got off the ferry and were in Quebec. This slice of it is in the Atlantic Time Zone, which is ½ hour later than Newfoundland time. We drove about two miles down a road, which suddenly became pitted as we hit the border with Labrador. At that point we were on Newfoundland time. Lots of potholes. Lots. LOTS. And yes, lots of road construction to correct this.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Labradoran landscape really showed off the Canadian shield: glacier-discarded boulders sat on top of crags like huge, mysterious bubbles. (Wish I could find those photos!) Vistas overlooked beautiful harbors. Quebec had wanted Labrador to consist of something like a 1-mile ribbon from the coast inward, but Labrador got the land from the Continental--or rather in this case, Peninsular--Divide to the Atlantic. So there, Quebec. Labrador is much larger in area than Newfoundland, but Nfld has by far the larger population.<o:p></o:p></div>
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On our first day in Nfld I’d managed to see a TV report about how the new hydroelectric system had just opened up within the past couple days. Seems that there’s a big falls in Labrador. It was too expensive for them to build a plant, so they teamed up with Quebec, people got conned, and now Quebec makes a lot of money off that electricity, but at least Newfoundland and Labrador have a better electricity source. It should have resulted in cheap energy for them, but thanks to Quebec, it’s actually a tad more expensive.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I kept asking: if Newfoundland is surrounded by major ocean currents, and if the wind blows all the time (I was assured it did), why didn’t it go for tidal and/or wind generators? Annette said that for the amount of money the new hydroelectric plant cost, every citizen of NL could have gotten their own personal wind generator. Our guide at St. John’s was pissed off at it all and said, “Don’t get me started,” then promised to tell me his take on it and how that certainly should be the case, but he never did.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The icebergs were often an unearthly, luminous teal color that made them seem like someone had Photoshopped them badly onto the seascape. I think this shot was in Labrador...</td></tr>
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There was lots more snow in Labrador than in Newfoundland, close to road. There was ice next to my window at our hotel, and across our roof. There also seemed to be many more textures: lichens, boulders, rushing streams, surf, spruce, vines, snow, puddles, fog, clouds. I took pictures of as many as I could. I like textures!<o:p></o:p></div>
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We visited the lighthouse at Point Amour (formerly “Pointe-aux-Morts” or “dead man’s point” due to numerous shipwrecks). Back in 1902, the <i>HMS Raleigh </i>thought the local rivers would be fine for its officers to do a little fishing in. Instead, in the fog, the ship ran aground. Trying to get ashore, ten sailors died. The remaining 700 were cared for by the lighthouse family until help from Montreal came. You can still see pieces of the ship on the beach.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gravesite through rain-drenched windows. It's really small, right next to the road.</td></tr>
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L’Anse (l’anse = “cove”) Amour also has another historic site. The rough drive to the lighthouse from the highway takes you past an almost unnoticeable mound. It’s the gravesite of a Maritime Archaic teenaged boy. He was buried in a ceremonial fashion with artifacts. The grave is from 6100 to 6600 BCE, and is the earliest known funeral monument in the Western Hemisphere. RIP. I think they said he had been about 16.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There are gorgeous rivers, cliffs and harbors in Labrador, but darn it, we couldn’t stop to take pictures. By this time I’d discovered that every tourist stop had the same souvenirs. None seemed particularly take-home-able. Tee shirts didn’t have the same panache as the ones on my other bus tours. NL should work on this!<o:p></o:p></div>
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That night we dined in the hotel. Our poor waiter, Mario! Thirty-three pre-ordered dinners and only he was taking side orders, distributing the various courses, and serving hot drinks. The last table got their entrees 45 minutes after we did, and tea didn’t arrive until just before dessert was served. Who arranges the staff like that? We were taking bets that he was also doing the cooking back there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next morning we caught the earliest ferry to return to Newfoundland. It was Canada Day! It was also Newfoundland Memorial Day, as they remember the 700 soldiers who were lost on the first day of the Battle of the Somme. At noon after the memorial services are over, the Canadian flag is raised, and Canada Day officially begins in the province.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This time the sun was out. We turned left/north at the highway and headed past more glorious coastline (you could see Labrador in the distance) for a few hours to an area where a large sign by the road said, “Welcome to Vinland!” They’re serious; that’s what the region is known as these days. You start seeing Viking words as part of bar names and car dealerships, umlauts over Os in English words, and Mjolnir shows up on signs here and there, along with cartoon Viking types sporting horned helmets. Though I looked hard, I never saw Chris Hemsworth, darn it.<o:p></o:p><br />
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At l’Anse aux Meadows I SAW LEIF ERICSON’S FREAKING HOUSE!!! It’s just the foundations, and keep in mind that archaeologists have been there and excavated 3 feet below ground level and then filled things back in, but you can clearly see the house’s outlines. Our guide told us that as an employee of Canada Parks she couldn’t say this was Leif’s house, but if we went to ANY of the archaeologists in the area they’d be glad to assure us that this was so.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Leif Ericson!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Leif was Eric the Red’s explorer son who discovered Vinland, the land of grapes and forests. Nowadays people don’t think l’Anse aux Meadows or Newfoundland is Vinland, but rather a repair point for Norse ships traveling between wherever that was and Greenland. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leif_Erikson">Read about Leif</a>, the first European in the Western Hemisphere, on Wiki.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Canada Parks has a reconstructed Norse complex with a few costumed actors (and a guy in a Canada Parks beaver suit) strolling about, explaining things and posing for pictures. People had really been crammed into the houses back then. I finally discovered what a sod house was. I’d read about such in American history, as many prairie folks built them, but I could never figure out just what they were talking about. You take thick-sodded ground and cut into it, making very hefty, rectangular bricks of solid dirt that holds together. Then you stack them as if they were bricks, making sure you alternate them so seams don’t match up. At l’Anse these bricks were quite thick! I could see how they would keep the elements out.<o:p></o:p><br />
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I almost talked a cute Viking – excuse me, <i>Norseman </i>since these guys weren’t warriors – into coming home with me, but he said that Norsemen needed good healthcare, and he couldn’t get that in NC. Darn it!<o:p></o:p></div>
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This place had a lot of scrub and lichen, with tiny streams running this way and that down to the beach. We were told that 1000 years ago there were good forests and deep water in the cove. It would have been the perfect place to set up a station to repair Norse ships. In a few days at the site a group would try smelting bog iron like the Norse had. Back then they’d made it into nails. I think this would be the second attempt since L’Anse was discovered. I haven't been able to find out how this time went.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first European kid born in the Western Hemisphere was a guy named Snorri. I need to research to see if he was the one who recorded some basic Norse myths. Probably not; it might have been a common name.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We detoured to catch some great iceberg shots. Annette had an app that tracked icebergs. We spotted some moose as well as whales. There were also some home flag poles wrapped with lights to celebrate Canada Day, plus one inflatable lawn decoration (just like our Xmas yard decor) that depicted a moose in a Canada tee shirt, holding two Canadian flags. Oh, Canada!<o:p></o:p></div>
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After the beautiful afternoon, fog quickly began settling around us in higher areas. We saw an iceberg just off the edge of the land near St. Andrews (which FYI has a large medical community), but could barely make it out because the fog was so thick. As soon as that fog hit the land it disappeared. Weird. Newfoundland and especially Labrador had the BEST fogs and clouds. Dramatic! Reaching down and touching the ground here, yet leaving things clear just over there. It looked unreal, fantastical.<o:p></o:p><br />
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We went back down the west coast because that was the only good way (there’s another highway circling around, but that road is supposed to be really bad), and because this way had the bathrooms. At lunch I had my first cod au gratin. So good! I’ve since gotten a recipe and prepared it at home. Yum! Our guide in St. John’s said that cod was the fish that ships best of all of them. It packs well, stores a very long time, and can be reconstituted easily. Any culture can put their own signature on cod as well. He also said that not only did over-fishing kill the cod industry back in the 80s, but also completely and unnecessarily destroyed the ocean floor and habitats there. It’s still doing that today. He’s furious about it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Trivia: Newfoundland is populated primarily by the descendants of only two cities in England: Bristol and Waterford, plus the Chinese who came in to help with the railroad and the Mi’kmaq, who first showed up in the 1600s (possibly before the Europeans, possibly just after). The new province voted for right-hand driving in 1947. This was because they could only get cars and buses from the US.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We went to sandy (no rocks!) Shallow Bay Beach that was either IN Gros Morne or very close to it. It was windy but the water was a pleasant temperature, and people were out in the surf having a good time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our tour had four women from Singapore. Though friendly, they kept pretty much to themselves, but they took photos of EVERYTHING. All the time. The four had to pass their dinner plates to the chief woman, who diligently took photos. On the bus that woman kept dropping her camera because she couldn’t bear to set it down, maybe (gasp) stop taking photos, while she dozed. Over and over and over that camera would fall to the floor. In St. John’s she was so busy taking pictures at this one “let’s look at a fishing boat” stop that she wasn’t watching where she was going and took a pretty nasty spill on the dock. She was up and about at the next stop, furiously taking more pictures. When is too much?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I shot LOTS of photos of Nfld's fabulous rocks! Also close-up rock textures. The island is a geologist's dream. This is at Great Falls. I'd post a photo of the falls, but it's mostly a hydroelectric dam, though below the main falls it's pretty... if you block out the dam. Damn!</td></tr>
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We finally got off the Viking Trail highway and set off east across the middle (or northern middle) of the island. After a very long while through scrubby forests we stopped at Great Falls to see the salmon ladders. They said something about a lot of rain so they’d closed off some of the ladders, but I still saw one fish leap (WOW!) into the ladder above it, and another one try at a closed one. The place had a museum of salmon, including tanks of babies. They’d had a temperature malfunction the day before and all the babies had died. How does a scientific facility fail to keep fish tanks safely cool?<o:p></o:p></div>
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We learned that Atlantic salmon didn’t have as much oil as their Pacific cousins, so were much drier to eat. They return again and again to spawn because they’ve got a special gland or something that releases salt when they’re in fresh water, keeping them alive. There’s only one type of Atlantic salmon, whereas there are five types of Pacific. None of the Pacific salmon survive their first trip to spawn. Hunh.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We kept seeing flags striped pink, white and green. Turned out these were the Republic of Newfoundland flag, a protest of NL belonging to Canada. The vote back in (mumble… 1947?) had been fairly close. Recently NL had designed its own flag. It’s got a kind of negative Union Jack in it, since Newfoundland was England’s very first colony. There are two red triangles, one to symbolize Newfoundland and one for Labrador. Plus there’s a yellow arrow “leading to the future.” Anyway, we all made note of the fact that since that flag was designed, Labrador has come up with its own flag as a way of saying "Nyah" to Newfoundland. After that the Republic flag began to pop up.<o:p></o:p><br />
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In Great Falls they’re offering incentives to pretty-fy houses and businesses, hoping to attract tourists. Let’s face it, the east-west highway in Newfoundland is BORING. I got a lot of reading done (Neal Gaiman’s <i><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Norse-Mythology-Neil-Gaiman-ebook/dp/B01HQA6EOC">Norse Mythology</a></i>— Splendid, fast-moving! RECOMMENDED!!!!! ), and Annette put on a video about Gander and 911. There were a handful of airports who helped people stranded during 911 (a Vancouver tour director drove her stranded senior clients well over 1000 miles back to their US homes, then drove herself back), but Gander was the place where the community stepped forward with personal touches. They did laundry, offered mattresses, let people shower in their homes, set up high schools to take care of everyone, cooked meals for them, etc. Later, people from the planes donated to help Gander’s emergency services and to set up scholarship funds. Some became BFFs with the Gander folks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Annette also showed us some great videos about a lady in Newfoundland who will cook any varmint her hunting husband brings home (although that beaver tail disintegrated when she set it in a campfire) and one with a woman in her late 80s who did EVERYTHING around her house: hunt, maintain fences, shovel four feet of snow off the roof. Her husband sat in the living room in his La-Z-Boy. I thanked heaven that her son and grandson lived nearby to keep track of her. We watched avidly because central Nfld. was all forest, forest, forest, up and down, up and down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our tour director assured us that Gander is NL’s most boring city. At least there our hotel was actually <i>somewhere.</i>There was a strip mall across the street! For some reason it closed very early except for the Dollar Store. I shopped there for some paper and, it turned out in a second trip, socks, as I’d luckily (thanks, Guides!) taken a few minutes to rearrange ye luggage and discovered just in time that I hadn’t packed enough! Now I have socks out the wazzoo! Also: the Gander hotel had decent wifi. Finally!<o:p></o:p></div>
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We took another left and traveled up to the Twillingate (Fr: Toulinquet) Islands, a bunch of small islands connected with bridges. It was a fairly pleasant area, with nothing special… except THE EDGE OF THE WORLD!!!<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvw-H9SRKTyA4HFRpU2gbsn-gOMXc7YgNDTW9E7YjL9yofamar94Ke-PlrZhSFsI9_gbnQZWHc-fc6jYkLzkzqvtDmV0gDXiPHUoRDQ4GVs2upEc7TCuWpTnFWvdQQ2qwXDgVRzSYX7c/s1600/fogo+edge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="800" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvw-H9SRKTyA4HFRpU2gbsn-gOMXc7YgNDTW9E7YjL9yofamar94Ke-PlrZhSFsI9_gbnQZWHc-fc6jYkLzkzqvtDmV0gDXiPHUoRDQ4GVs2upEc7TCuWpTnFWvdQQ2qwXDgVRzSYX7c/s320/fogo+edge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Darn it, we drove past the turn-off to the Fogo Island ferry. If we had gone and then driven an hour or more north, we could have arrived at Brimstone Head. Here is where one of the four corners of the Flat Earth lies. Or maybe it’s just off the coast. Something like that. Anyway, we MISSED IT. If you want to read more, <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/newfoundland-labrador/museum-of-the-flat-earth-opens-on-fogo-island-1.3590896">here’s an article.</a> Looks like the locals have a lot of fun with the concept. Fogo’s also the island where one of the locals struck it rich and returned to help around the community as well as build a very hoity hotel that is the ultimate foo-foo. Okay then.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, this isn't at the edge of the world. This is at Bonavista.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and this is why.</td></tr>
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At Terra Nova or Cape Bonavista or somewhere we learned that a chunk of the Canadian Shield broke off a few million years or so ago. There was a piece of Africa hanging around and the two bonked together. That’s why Newfoundland has three distinct geologic areas: the west coast (shield), the east coast (Africa), and the sedimentary rock they squeezed up between them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Somewhere we went for a boat ride (we had a lot of those) to watch for whales and look at puffins. There was only one whale we could really see, and when I looked, I couldn’t see the puffins’ colors, though it was mating season and colors should have been at their brightest. However, I could see that puffins’ wings flap twice as fast as the other birds’ in the area. Puffins can’t fly worth beans, we were told, but they can dive deep into the water like anything.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">We stopped for the night at Clarenville, a “test” hotel for Globus. I loved my room. It had the most comfortable reading chair of the trip, complete with a foot stool, ahh. But my dinner salad had broken glass in it. I think. I peered at the largest piece I’d spat out. It was hard, the size of a pebble and clear, made up of layers of clear material. Glass? Quartz? It came with a lot of sharp grit, seemed like a good teaspoonful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">I called the lady in charge of the dining room over. She took my napkin, into which I’d spat everything, to the chef. He declared it was a radish. “We get them from the farmers’ market but really, it’s rare that we add them to a salad. That’s the way they are.” Seriously? If radishes were like this, like eating broken glass, why would you use them? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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I’d heard other people talking about how the young wait staff had no idea how to do their job. (Bus tour people can get MEAN about things. We've been cooped up.) I’d seen TV shows where the wait staff made the salads. I suggested that perhaps the restaurant needed to train its staff to wash veggies better. This woman got red-faced FURIOUS: “How dare you insult my staff? The waiters don’t prepare salad!” instead of apologizing for what had been in my salad. No, it was MY fault for blaming her people.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“It was a radish,” she insisted. It was GLASS. Or something very akin to glass.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The guy on our tour who used a wheelchair when he could and his wife, the lady just coming off chemo, had called when they’d booked the trip to make sure all hotels had handicap-accessible rooms. Yep. They’d called this particular hotel a week before, personally, to make sure. Yep. They’d called that morning. Yep. Do I even have to tell you that the room they were given was NOT accessible? They went to the front desk, which told them oops, here’s an accessible room. It wasn’t. But there was nothing else available, so they did what they could with it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Clarenville Inn, Clarenville, NL. I mean, FYI. Globus had stopped using the other hotel in town because of problems. How bad could those have been?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m sorry, but by now EVERYTHING was running together. One of our crew, a nice British lady, told me that when she’d toured Italy they’d gotten a “day off” in the middle just to lie on the beach, walk around town, or maybe even lie in their beds all day. Sounds like a good idea to me. I can recall others (including me) on my Alaska cruise saying that after a certain amount of time they were “glaciered out.” Things in Nfld just turned into more coasts and more coasts and here’s yet another fishing museum and such. I was getting numb.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_KdxV75rwo_IyA5sodTGXWHbC9NLn0p6QESrDtpGXcZclg-CuldKfZfRJkOUqh0wigMIfMhspJ73zKYFsvQAfD438eToS0C4I9OtxxuOwi0T5xvFIUEn3Fc_4SOqcURLNmP7S6_v8KY/s1600/trinity+church.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_KdxV75rwo_IyA5sodTGXWHbC9NLn0p6QESrDtpGXcZclg-CuldKfZfRJkOUqh0wigMIfMhspJ73zKYFsvQAfD438eToS0C4I9OtxxuOwi0T5xvFIUEn3Fc_4SOqcURLNmP7S6_v8KY/s320/trinity+church.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trinity church.It's been used in some movies.</td></tr>
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We came to the town of Trinity, which was one of Annette’s favorite places. How I wished we’d been able to stop above the town to take pictures! Lovely. (Or was that the town at Bonne Bay where we took yet another boat ride?) Like all our lunches, the one here had been arranged and ordered days before. Annette had been in touch at least twice this day, telling the owners of the Dock Marina Restaurant when our bus would arrive. We arrived when we said we would. And sat in the dining room. And sat. I never did get half my order. This one tall guy just STOOD behind the counter in the corner, glaring at us. I was going over to complain, but what would that do? We only paid for what we actually got.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Annette had a FIRM discussion with the owner afterward. Turns out: Locals had been complaining that buses got priority at his place, so he’d hired a Consultant to figure a way to serve both kinds of customers. Consultant was Staring Guy. This was the first day of implementation. Things were going as wrong as they could go, and nothing was done to adjust The Plan.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Since I’d missed out on half my lunch, I walked across the dock and got some GLORIOUS, hand-made, chocolate-covered liquid caramels. <a href="http://www.auntsarahschocolate.ca/">Aunt Sarah's Chocolate.</a> Oh my, they were decadent! Best ever!!! I then went strolling with the tour group and local guide but became aware of Certain Immediate Needs and made my own path to the public restrooms. Which were locked. By then maybe I could hold it until I got back to the restaurant, but there was a gift shop above that restaurant that I wandered into. They advertised facilities for tourists, thank you very much! They also had some really nice artsy as well as craftsy stuff. There were some paintings in a style I’d begun to recognize. This artist was excellent, and apparently getting good coverage across the island, but I’d swear that one particular painting I’d seen before. His prices were also much lower than I’d think for a smartly-matted and framed painting.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDktxvasDXntEtJXLcf0BWv1v5efz22Zq6tplUZ4DfLFNvZcVJwD16BWcMOYrIKA2jds74QNCahvLGvlzQWogbWL0xEG1EZ6eT5qS8hHTe8Q4sj5FkZnWyQJdo8WYQjjDd3DvmvqqgF68/s1600/great+iceberg.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDktxvasDXntEtJXLcf0BWv1v5efz22Zq6tplUZ4DfLFNvZcVJwD16BWcMOYrIKA2jds74QNCahvLGvlzQWogbWL0xEG1EZ6eT5qS8hHTe8Q4sj5FkZnWyQJdo8WYQjjDd3DvmvqqgF68/s320/great+iceberg.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, this isn't the painting. I'm trying to space out shots to break up the copy here.</td></tr>
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“Is this a print?” I asked, and was told it was. In that case, his prices were damned high. Well, maybe he was having to pay a high commission. Some places charge 50%, you know. The label should have indicated that this was a print and told how big the edition was. The print itself was not labelled as to number. <i>Wah-wah.</i> Cheating customers, naughty. Still I took a business card because their jewelry was lovely. (Their website isn't working or I'd post it.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Around the corner and up up up a hill and then down a bunch of steps was another gallery, <a href="http://www.mirabellashoponline.com/">Mirabella</a>, run by a woman who made the wide variety of things in it. Some GORGEOUS jewelry. I took a card there as well because I’d recently gotten a bunch of jewelry (I had a <i>thing</i> going for about a month there, ca-ching), and I really don’t have anywhere to wear the stuff. But it was indeed GORGEOUS and not that expensive.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One of our group, Svetlana, turned 80 on the first day of our tour. You could barely understand her, as she was raised in Poland or some such. (She sounded like Dr. Ruth.) She was always fussing over her husband, who is 89 and doesn’t get around well. Mostly he either found a bench or sat on the bus, as he did this day. After his wife tried unsuccessfully to get him to eat cherry ice cream, his favorite, he privately told me with a quiet smile that he goes on these tours to make his wife happy. Aww!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally we were on our last full day of the tour. On the way to St. John’s Annette played <i>The Grand Seduction</i>, a movie that had been filmed in the Trinity area. It was a chuckly thing, but I missed a few bits because, well, we were on a bus and Annette kept speaking over the soundtrack with discussion of our increasingly interesting surroundings. Finally as the movie, which was about how an entire town was trying to con a doctor into moving there so they could fulfill that item in a contract with an oil company so citizens would be able to work again, anyway where was I? As the movie was getting to the Big Black Moment, Annette shut it off because we were approaching civilization and she wanted to talk full tilt.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJ-aTZCRCaqK5z1udWIzxnyCRbWbBA5cReEMLSmFigMX6C8ryEprCrP9zAwWVt1eKJPY9t110K8evRDpeDVQSr-00TaD6NHNVfRHv-4k1Dyr2JkyX3Fi8MGP79rnBNjO6_Iggp9xZlwA/s1600/cape+spear.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJ-aTZCRCaqK5z1udWIzxnyCRbWbBA5cReEMLSmFigMX6C8ryEprCrP9zAwWVt1eKJPY9t110K8evRDpeDVQSr-00TaD6NHNVfRHv-4k1Dyr2JkyX3Fi8MGP79rnBNjO6_Iggp9xZlwA/s320/cape+spear.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape Spear. I think I took this pic not only to show the platform, but the far bit of land there, where you should be able to see Cabot Tower, but I really don't see it in this photo. You could spot it very well in person.</td></tr>
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We came to Cape Spear, the most eastern point of North America (unless you count Semisopochnoi Island on the far left tip of Alaska’s Aleutian chain, which is just over the International Date Line). It was windy and there were steep walks with no railings and cliffs and pretty coves and some whales out in the ocean and a bathroom. There was also a lighthouse, but it was too many steps UP for me, it was REALLY REALLY windy, and our stop wasn’t that long. We could look across the bay and see Cabot Tower waaaaaay in the distance.</div>
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That was where we headed to next, in St. John’s. On the way I asked Annette if we could see the end of the movie. She seemed surprised that we’d want to know how things turned out for the town and the doctor. She took a vote and we got to watch. The movie ended just as we arrived in St. John’s, but I missed the big turning point and couldn’t figure how things ended as they did. I’ll have to track down the film and watch it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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St. John’s Cabot Tower is high above the city and its protected harbor. The freezing wind was also quite strong here – so strong that I didn’t walk beyond the main building there in fear of being blown off the side. There was one skinny teenage girl who was walking on the top of some low walls that had warning signs on them. I don’t see how she survived. Looking for a Darwin Award?<o:p></o:p></div>
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John Cabot was the Italian buddy of Columbus (he anglicized his name when he went to work for the English) who discovered Newfoundland and made it England’s very first colony.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZl3-pVUS4A9htpwf91qxYz_N3wMao_ed5pE-gguUQ8ws7xIZqk43H9awD9OBlyJ7-SdEi05oJyE2iOUJah999bUwB-sNYel4v94-LvcbfwXECtyumVt5ykbV_cQWGXL1yxO6hKFMo5zQ/s1600/view+cabot+tower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZl3-pVUS4A9htpwf91qxYz_N3wMao_ed5pE-gguUQ8ws7xIZqk43H9awD9OBlyJ7-SdEi05oJyE2iOUJah999bUwB-sNYel4v94-LvcbfwXECtyumVt5ykbV_cQWGXL1yxO6hKFMo5zQ/s320/view+cabot+tower.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Cabot Tower. Watch out for that first step...</td></tr>
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St. John’s is a nice little city with interesting buildings and a harbor that makes a sharp turn. Its cliffs have been drilled to create warehouses to store all kinds of things through the centuries, including munitions during WWII. Our hotel was located right on the edge of downtown, but was under Major Redecorating Construction.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That afternoon before dinner I ambled over to the room bathroom and had to stop in the doorway. Something was off. I looked under the sink. I checked for hidden doors in the cabinetry. I called the front desk. “There’s no toilet paper in my room.” “Oh, the maid didn’t leave you any?” “No, likely because there’s nowhere to put it.” There was no toilet paper holder! Soon enough Housekeeping showed up and giggled that the maid must have forgotten to supply the room. (!) I practically had to drag the woman in to get her to see. She giggled some more. “Some of our rooms don’t have toilet paper holders yet.” “Why are they putting people in those rooms then?” Giggle. Shrug. I was the only one on our tour who didn't get paper, but almost everyone didn't have TP holders. Pshee!</div>
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The next day there were costumed bands, reinactors and such around the Cabot Tower celebrating (mumble mumble; can’t recall the special day) but the kids in them were really enthusiastic and quite good. Right below this area is a geological museum where I bought a nice crystal. It’s plain quartz, but it’s blue. Cool. But we only went to the museum because it had bathrooms and they would let us in to use them (and the gift shop) without having to pay admission.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I kissed a cod. (And I didn’t like it.) But I’m now an official Newfoundland screecher. The previous night’s dinner (not a part of the tour) in the hotel restaurant was superb from first bite to last. This night we had our farewell dinner in a special room. The chowder was bleh so I was looking forward to the steak. We’d had the worst steak ever a few nights before. Tonight’s was only better than that in that it was a bit thicker. Ah, bus tours!<o:p></o:p><br />
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Our entertainment was an insanely talented singer/guitarist from a local improv group. She set up inches behind my chair. If I’d known, I’d have sat on the opposite side of the room so I could have enjoyed the music. After she took off we held the Screech Ceremony, where you have to learn to say something like a Newfoundlander (which means you have to say "by" [b'y: "boy," the equivalent of the Canadian "eh"] a lot) and they pass around a dead fish to kiss. Then everyone drinks booze.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As we left, the couple next to me just happened to mention that the hotel provided boxed breakfasts for those who were leaving early. We both were departing in the middle of the night so I got one, utilizing my final tour breakfast ticket. As was pointed out by others, the box contained many substances that would not make it beyond the first security point. I ate what I could before then, and took the rest (packaged bars, an apple, etc.) in my carry-on. It was all tasty stuff, so thanks, Delta Hotel! May you get everything fixed soon.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quidi Vidi ("kiddy viddy"), a suburb of St. John's renowned for its beer microbrewery.</td></tr>
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At Toronto before the final leg home, I didn’t know if the walk to get to Customs, much less get THROUGH it, would ever end. I didn’t see how those with walking problems would make it. Thankfully toward the end I found an elevator and went downstairs to access the US gates, but even there it was walk walk walk. There were only two cafes open for all US traffic to use, and lines wound back and back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Got a lunch and sat down. Eventually I noticed an actual unattended bag sitting two chairs away. I looked around and couldn't see any security personnel to contact, so I spotted a guy in a pilot's uniform and told him. He seemed as confused as I as to whom to contact, but I’d done my job and reported the problem. My plane was boarding. Where was security?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Got home, whew. 1113 pictures of the trip. Surely I can get some paintings out of them? I checked out a lot of them saying, "Where the heck was this?" Taking photos of place signs ("Welcome to Killgutt" or "Barfbag National Monument") is helpful and I noticed that quite a few others on the bus also used this method. Sometimes I didn't have access to a place sign, though, and by the last days of the trip had burned out on taking notes. Guess I’ll have to assign some to folders titled “pretty beaches” and “interesting houses.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Even though you’re sitting most of the time, bus vacations will drain energy from you. For the week after mine, I didn’t paint. I didn’t work in the yard. I didn’t go anywhere. I sat around in a DAZE. Must remember next time to take extra recovery days off of work!<o:p></o:p><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-9586971913607997122018-05-17T08:23:00.000-04:002018-05-26T20:30:21.731-04:00Midsomer Musings<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzWZ6yeopYbLW4a6XTaWrDpHMWKOW_VxU4j2OGeGDAz0b783bM5FV9rteOuyUvf8yFVd57oEo07PUUjhKIEeLr9EgyDb7oyw3oI_U-RtBIOV48OgxlioZMlx9vEYYW1KKoHGxyUm0N68/s1600/midsomer_murders_-_season_385_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1280" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzWZ6yeopYbLW4a6XTaWrDpHMWKOW_VxU4j2OGeGDAz0b783bM5FV9rteOuyUvf8yFVd57oEo07PUUjhKIEeLr9EgyDb7oyw3oI_U-RtBIOV48OgxlioZMlx9vEYYW1KKoHGxyUm0N68/s320/midsomer_murders_-_season_385_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DCI Tom Barnaby and DS Jones</td></tr>
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I just got through binge-watching 20 full seasons of <i>Midsomer Murders</i>, a mystery series set somewhere in central England in a fictitious county called Midsomer. I won't tell you how long it took me to watch because it would shock you. Deeply. I was even so engrossed I was willing to PAY for Acorn TV so I could get the 20th current season, which Netflix doesn't carry. Luckily for me, though Acorn was lousy at streaming (at least on the first ep), I discovered that I was already paying for Britbox, which is where Season 20 is also located.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joyce, Tom and Cully</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/world-australia-43860914">A recent article</a> compared the TV communities of Midsomer, Cabot Cove, Maine, and Melbourne, Australia, to see which one had the most murders. Midsomer came in with a rate three times normal (what, only three?), while Phryne Fisher's Melbourne was positively on target. Jessica Fletcher's little village easily won the day with the most bloodshed. USA! USA! That doesn't mean that Midsomer doesn't TRY.<br />
<br />
Midsomer falls under the supervision of Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, who is married and has a daughter. But there are TWO Barnabys. Back in 1998 it was Tom, played by John Nettles. His wife, Joyce, had the by-god ugliest hairdo I've ever seen, and maintained it for the time she was on the show, though eventually someone puffed it up with a tad more volume. Their grown daughter, Cully, also had an awful hairdo similar to Mom's, but she grew out of it. She was an actress (often between gigs) who somehow managed to know the details of the neighborhoods Tom didn't have access to. When Cully wasn't around it was up to dull ol' Joyce to join the proper charity so she'd know when to add the right hint that would trigger Tom to crack the mystery.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DS Nelson, Dr. Kam Karimore, and John</td></tr>
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Season 13 briefly introduced us to Tom's DCI cousin John (Neil Dudgeon) from Brighton, and in season 14 he moved to Midsomer to take over when Tom retired. John's wife Sarah had a lovely hairdo, I'm sure you'll appreciate, and at first her occupation in the school system didn't add much to the plot but by the end she was discovering odd pieces of useful information like crazy. The new Barnabys came with an adorable dog, Sykes. Sykes had already been a star in British commercials about dog shelters, but easily took up the role as a Dog of Mystery. But the 19th season began by showing us Sykes' grave in the Barnaby's back yard. The actual dog had merely retired, but the TV Barnabys acquired Paddy. In addition, somewhere in there the actress playing Sarah had become pregnant, so the Barnabys were blessed with little Betty.<br />
<br />
DCI Barnaby, whichever one, has had assistants come and go. There was also a policewoman computer whiz who eventually became a detective, and of course there are the various pathologists, all of whom can do precise organic detection that stretches belief regularly. "Why yes, the victim died four hours and thirteen minutes ago due to this rare Oriental poison which no one has heard of for three hundred and five years (and nine minutes), plus this ouchie under his 124,065th hair follicle which only our electron microscope can detect."<br />
<br />
Along with OTT characters, there are imaginative plots, crazy plots, strange plots, and almost all come with holes of various sizes. Sometimes I beat on the arms of my La-Z-Boy and scream, "No! No! That's ridiculous!" but no one on screen hears me. There've been times when I've Googled and found that it's almost impossible to die from ground glass. If it's big enough to kill you, you'll notice it in your mouth and spit it out. If it's ground so you can't feel it, it won't harm you. So that one guy shouldn't have died after all. Do they listen to me? Nooo...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah, Sykes and John</td></tr>
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<br />
Watching the series does give one a solid feel for life in typical England. Here are the things I've learned.<br />
<br />
• Action can take place outside a house at midnight, in the pitch dark. When characters then immediately move inside to the drawing room, bright daylight can come through the window. Must be those crazy solstices over there.<br />
<br />
• British weather can change in a nanosecond. It can be pouring rain on you as you look at a dock on the river. But a different angle at the same moment from that dock will show a lovely, sunny day. It can also be bright sun but raining buckets... though the next scene will reveal an overcast, drizzly day.<br />
<br />
• All British houses have lots of shrubbery surrounding them. The populace is required to skulk in it and watch the houses, where drapes are either left open or missing altogether.<br />
<br />
• British houses come in three types and three types only: The historic mansion, sprawling and ancient. The modern mansion, not quite as sprawling and boxy with lots of large, floor-to-ceiling windows and minimal interior design. The cottage or row house, which seems like a claustrophobic cave with tiny rooms and ceilings that everyone has to bend over to fit under while trying to work their way around parlors stuffed with far too much dowdy furniture.<br />
<br />
• Though almost everyone drinks and drinks and drinks, British pubs are always on the verge of bankruptcy.<br />
<br />
• When calling at a home, one is always immediately offered tea. This is served from a fancy tea service, which includes a tray and often delicious snackies that have been waiting. Really, people seem to keep such stuff on hand and don't have to make a special Twinkies run. Despite all this tea drinking, tea rooms are always about to go bankrupt.<br />
<br />
• Come to think of it, EVERY business in England is about to go bankrupt.<br />
<br />
• All Brits have done at least one thing that leaves them open to blackmail.<br />
<br />
• The nobility are scum. The rich are scum. Kids who go to private school are scum. More than half of British priests are scum.<br />
<br />
• Druids overrun the nation. Religious conservatives who might as well be carrying torches and pitchforks appear in equal numbers with their pagan counterparts. Both camps are fervid in their beliefs and unwilling to accept anything later than 17th Century ideas into their minds.<br />
<br />
• All Brits are required to take midnight (or later) walks. In the middle of the night village streets experience pedestrian logjams as folks stroll about for various "medical reasons" while peeking into neighbor's windows and keeping track of everyone else's movements. From behind the shrubbery, of course.<br />
<br />
• Villages keep a full calendar of rinky-dink "fayres" for people to attend, buy knickknacks, dance around not-necessarily-Maypoles, and be murdered at.<br />
<br />
• The populace get around more on horses and bikes than cars. When they do drive cars, they are often sporty types.<br />
<br />
• Roads in England are crap. I saw this when I went over. There'd be one lane to service two directions of travel. One blinks one's lights to indicate that oncoming traffic will be granted right of way. On <i>Midsomer</i>, this means backing up out of the way and having the car fall into a deep ditch. Every. Time.<br />
<br />
• Towing services must be the one business in England that is NOT on the verge of bankruptcy.<br />
<br />
• Brit murderers are skilled. They always know EXACTLY where their victim will be standing/walking/flying when their chosen Method of Execution is timed and aimed to go off. Precisely. To the millimeter. I mean, if the person hesitated or wasn't exactly on the path they thought they'd be on... (That guy who got auto-remote-controlled machine-gunned in front of his garage saw the gun shooting a path towards him. Luckily he was standing at precisely the center of the garage door so the bullets could kill him. If he'd been to the side, or had even stepped out of the way...)<br />
<br />
• Many English people are insane. Many, many English people. When plots need a crazy person to do the job, that doesn't mean that the same episode can't bring in another crazy person who has nothing to do with the murder. Or bring in entire families (including extended members) of coo-coo ca-razy people who foam at the mouth but whom others in the community have never guessed are anything but completely sane.<br />
<br />
• Theramin theme music is instantly recognizable. It is also missed when some directors decide against using it. Bad directors. Bad!<br />
<br />
• Brits can't move sideways. They are physically incapable of it. They see a deadly force approaching straight-on at a reasonable speed, and they don't take a step to the left or right. They stand there or sometimes even walk toward it, and thus -- SPLOIT!!!<br />
<br />
• Brits are required to own black hoodies. And black gloves. Black wellies to be kept in the boot of their cars if at all possible. All midnight skulking must be done in these outfits.<br />
<br />
• Upon hearing a strange noise coming from downstairs (or someplace similar) in the middle of the night when there should be no one there, Brits refuse to phone the cops but rather rise out of bed, move toward the noise, and say, "Hello?" to announce themselves. Usually followed by, "What are YOU doing here?" SPLOIT!!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCVCRc-kwHFi8wHMOgvyeUjVQ0L2IEfQ6eXRCArYp5j86SyHYK9Xf9s_cyAWGVwvrsKAA-x0NbyBfOUvdIKgARY91r448fuhfG0HSYybWtuJ4DI7MLDUQ6m94CM-deQKWhJ0Ym2hLdZU/s1600/dr+fleur+perkins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCVCRc-kwHFi8wHMOgvyeUjVQ0L2IEfQ6eXRCArYp5j86SyHYK9Xf9s_cyAWGVwvrsKAA-x0NbyBfOUvdIKgARY91r448fuhfG0HSYybWtuJ4DI7MLDUQ6m94CM-deQKWhJ0Ym2hLdZU/s1600/dr+fleur+perkins.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Fleur Perkins, the current pathologist, gets<br />
a kick out of dissecting murder victims.</td></tr>
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<br />
• Unlike America (as seen on TV), England has people who are experiencing a variety of ages. They have babies, children, young adults, middle-aged adults, older adults, and ancient adults. Of both sexes. How weird!<br />
<br />
• If Brits feel the need to kill someone, they ponder it a while and perhaps bend the laws of physics to do so. It comes from having too much time on their hands. For example, one midnight a woman injected her lover (no longer needed) with horse anesthetic (to implicate the local vet) to make him drowsy. Then she loaded him into the back seat of a car. A cement mixer just happened to be sitting next to that car, not churning away to keep its load from setting because after all, hey, this was midnight and the work day was far behind it. So she sets up the mixer to fill up the car halfway with cement that hadn't set yet even though it apparently had been sitting in the truck for HOURS. Her lover is still partially awake as the cement rises halfway up his chest, asphyxiating him. Just imagine: she could have merely increased the dose of the anesthetic to off him. Or bonked him on the head, like most MM murders happen. ("What are YOU doing here?" BONK!!!) (Granted, in those cases it's more: BONK!!! "What arre youuuuuu... ugh.")<br />
<br />
• Until fairly recently, England saw a great many cases of incest. Not so much these days, thankfully.<br />
<br />
• Until fairly recently, England was an all-white nation. Suddenly in 2011 people with brown skin moved in in sufficient numbers to make things look normal. Wonder where they'd been before that?<br />
<br />
• Thank goodness there are strict gun laws in Britain, or the entire population would have killed each other by now! Guns are kept locked in safes and are registered within an inch of their lives... Although Great Uncle Shamus sometimes has passed an unregistered gun down through the generations...<br />
<br />
• Since it's difficult to use a gun, murderous Brits think imaginatively. They pick up the nearest deadly thing: poison mushrooms, poison frogs, various weapon artifacts like spears, candlesticks (yawn), arrows, Neptune's trident, vats of soup, rounds of cheese... Guns are so passé! And of course ONE murder isn't enough. You must do two at least. Three is excellent. Four might be pushing things.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYIvJ_BZez9qrFgjTpP-oYtAzrSIASEbc_CgyGu3t7cjzIy-ZVLW5ujSUplVUDTamQ2KLNCK7faKberct6PZR4ONPOnpQN31n01WDxXgA4vrvtcPX6CFaIuw_i8YFuWTuPuw75hOKeCQ/s1600/DCI-Barnaby-welcomes-new-companion-Paddy-in-Midsomer-Murders-as-Sykes-the-dog-retires.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="620" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYIvJ_BZez9qrFgjTpP-oYtAzrSIASEbc_CgyGu3t7cjzIy-ZVLW5ujSUplVUDTamQ2KLNCK7faKberct6PZR4ONPOnpQN31n01WDxXgA4vrvtcPX6CFaIuw_i8YFuWTuPuw75hOKeCQ/s320/DCI-Barnaby-welcomes-new-companion-Paddy-in-Midsomer-Murders-as-Sykes-the-dog-retires.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John, Paddy and DS Winter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And most importantly:<br />
<br />
• British TV is only made watchable by the use of subtitles. Even then, one might have to pause the broadcast and Google to find out why Bob's your uncle.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-15495299056978304382017-09-27T08:13:00.000-04:002017-10-05T13:41:10.597-04:00Alaska, part 3: Ports of Call<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAZwy0Vpkg4TsY2gMT6cSIVhAO__NYN0ISwdLMROt2N1oxyapPl0MPSRIanZ8xj11UP_h4J6YPalOEQFGNzE8Dd8wjYNqRypoUOIGCZclgqrFzJQooq7TvuNtdlDszdSMHFI3W0zwMGz0/s1600/P8290511+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAZwy0Vpkg4TsY2gMT6cSIVhAO__NYN0ISwdLMROt2N1oxyapPl0MPSRIanZ8xj11UP_h4J6YPalOEQFGNzE8Dd8wjYNqRypoUOIGCZclgqrFzJQooq7TvuNtdlDszdSMHFI3W0zwMGz0/s320/P8290511+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">As I said, the
first day of cruising was At Sea, though not as far out as originally
scheduled. Still, we pitched and rolled and my inner ears were affected just
enough to leave me pretty darned dizzy. We all got a chance to explore the ship
and figure out a daily routine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Finally we
entered the calmer waters of Glacier Bay. When in the late 1700s Capt.
Vancouver came through the area, the bay wasn’t even there. Three hundred years
ago we had the Little Ice Age. The native Tlingit people said the great glacier
there began to advance “as fast as a dog can run.” They had to abandon their
lands. (They got their lands back in the 1980s.)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Since that ice
age, the glacier carved out a mammoth bay. There are large bay-emptying <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(tidewater) glaciers here and there,
especially at the very end, and lots of mountain valley-type glaciers. The
water is teal-colored, as is most water that comes off a glacier and carries
sediment with it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">As the day began
we were boarded by a bunch of Park Rangers and a few Tlingit. Most passengers
gathered in the Mondrian auditorium to hear the talk about the bay and its
history. A Tlingit lady in full native costume told us the story from her
people’s point of view, bringing us into the modern era with the tale of what
had happened to the Tlingit. Her parents didn’t know the customs or language,
but she had been lucky enough to grow up listening to her two grandmothers, who
taught her about their people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The bay was a
pretty, normal bay for a while... and then we began to see bits of ice, like
someone had spilled an ice tray from a very big refrigerator. I made my way up
to the top promenade, where most of the ship who weren’t sitting in the heated,
dry forward view lounge, were standing around the railings.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJ7PYZt39lxdwwYmVXm7_T8JOXVMql28RlPC68rsasR1amNJvej9RTmhle9ZifkCWBLrEtGmxYFfcEceGWzZD2ImJrilaB_qsICBk5fSSZDMn8OO0pgoOpeEK-0kIRAHsZ9Idh4MkHvQ/s1600/P8290558+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJ7PYZt39lxdwwYmVXm7_T8JOXVMql28RlPC68rsasR1amNJvej9RTmhle9ZifkCWBLrEtGmxYFfcEceGWzZD2ImJrilaB_qsICBk5fSSZDMn8OO0pgoOpeEK-0kIRAHsZ9Idh4MkHvQ/s320/P8290558+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Wiki: “Glacier
Bay Basin in </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Southeast_Alaska" title="Southeast Alaska"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-decoration: none;">southeastern</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alaska" title="Alaska"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-decoration: none;">Alaska</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">,
in the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States" title="United States"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-decoration: none;">United States</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">, encompasses the Glacier Bay and
surrounding mountains and glaciers, which was first proclaimed a U.S. National
Monument on February 25, 1925, and which was later, on December 2, 1980,
enlarged and designated as the Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve under the
Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act, covering an area of 3,283,000
acres (1,329,000 ha). In 1986, UNESCO declared an area of 57,000 acres (23,000
ha) within a World Biosphere Reserve. This is the largest </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UNESCO" title="UNESCO"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-decoration: none;">UNESCO</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> protected
biosphere in the world. In 1992, UNESCO included this area as a part of a World
Heritage site, extending over an area of 24,300,000-acre (98,000 km2)
which also included the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Kluane National Park
(Canada) and Tatshenshini-Alsek Park (Canada). Part of the National Park is
also designated a Wilderness area covering 2,658,000 acres (1,076,000 ha).”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Again: “</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Muir" title="John Muir"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-decoration: none;">John Muir</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">,
the naturalist, conservationist and scientist, pioneered the focus of the world
on the Glacier Bay phenomenon. During his research Muir had witnessed the
glaciers in action. He had noted that the ice had retreated almost all the way
up. In 1888 (1889 is also mentioned in some references) when John Muir
first visited the Bay, this wall was 48 miles (77 km) and retreated from
the sea by 44 miles (71 km). Now, it stands retreated to 65 miles
(105 km), as a remnant of the old wall of the glacier system and has 16
major </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glacier#Types_of_glaciers" title="Glacier"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; text-decoration: none;">tidewater glaciers</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> (10, 12 and 15 are also mentioned in some
references).”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">So the bay’s a
LOT bigger than it was just a while ago, getting 65 miles larger in just the
past 200 years as most of the glaciers retreat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUu6mn4Fx6zcXuErzHZHwbpErzKYkWYa8AhyPQca4_9Tkfy4Kl5ePg9EIQ-cCV-9mBZ2JopD0CJdh6oFKssVOOJ14A073dcOlceqeiBnOOzhzfOA6JtoT24gCq1fgcBZW-RMNdL8p7Gdo/s1600/P8290596+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUu6mn4Fx6zcXuErzHZHwbpErzKYkWYa8AhyPQca4_9Tkfy4Kl5ePg9EIQ-cCV-9mBZ2JopD0CJdh6oFKssVOOJ14A073dcOlceqeiBnOOzhzfOA6JtoT24gCq1fgcBZW-RMNdL8p7Gdo/s320/P8290596+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Margerie glacier. Great Pacific is just starting on the right of this pic.<br />
The glacier is about one mile wide with an ice face that is about 250 feet high above the waterline.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The ice bits
became larger and larger. Some were large enough to hold three seals or sea
lions. They were striped with black. At the end of the right-hand fork of the
bay were two enormous walls of ice: the Margerie Glacier, which is stable, and
to its right, the Grand Pacific Glacier, which was the name of the glacier when
it filled up the entire bay area. It’s receding at about 30 feet a year. The
Grand Pacific is a LOT dirtier than Margerie. I was hoping that we’d witness a
calving. We did hear a roar once and everyone was excited, but nothing we could
see broke off anywhere.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvEkCanEDJOpNAomNrNAbCJJTL2lM4mvw4MaK2lJVbOg7JtNhmePyj4e3ZDS6sb3e1OcnyxZuVkFnPmnvzNDYEdfeaL-aqBNR4DkcdhhsLBtk8-sWyUvGE3dQ96P-OY2AOUYleECbKSaQ/s1600/P8290597+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvEkCanEDJOpNAomNrNAbCJJTL2lM4mvw4MaK2lJVbOg7JtNhmePyj4e3ZDS6sb3e1OcnyxZuVkFnPmnvzNDYEdfeaL-aqBNR4DkcdhhsLBtk8-sWyUvGE3dQ96P-OY2AOUYleECbKSaQ/s320/P8290597+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Pacific glacier. Margerie is just to the left. Why is it so dirty?<br />
Avalanches, rock slides, tributary glaciers and the scouring of the valley have<br />
caused an accumulation of dirt and rock.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Going into the
bay, the decks were crowded with people vying for the best photo opportunities.
After exploring both arms of the bay the ship turned around and... ghost town.
I got in a few more dozen shots, though. I also bought a thumb drive that has 300 professionally-shot photos. Let's see if you can tell the difference between one of those and something I shot:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWnmtTwZSqq3WjUT3c5fWVX2kmsFu_TBuk-5qHlE52mZQbio-j4KXxZwcBLdhWCV2J4vSRcs-aJNMSliI6T0OQtEF45CIFLG0_-a16ZrYY8nJBhcis36MXzHmjIs90pPrL3MuYNIAs0U/s1600/comparison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="813" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWnmtTwZSqq3WjUT3c5fWVX2kmsFu_TBuk-5qHlE52mZQbio-j4KXxZwcBLdhWCV2J4vSRcs-aJNMSliI6T0OQtEF45CIFLG0_-a16ZrYY8nJBhcis36MXzHmjIs90pPrL3MuYNIAs0U/s320/comparison.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The next day we
came into Haines. It’s a very small town that used to be home to Ft. Seward,
and many of the officers’ houses still exist and look picture-perfect. These
days the town has a thriving art community and is very proud of their library.
Between October and February, Haines is home to the world’s largest
concentration of bald eagles. I saw photos of eagles looking like they were
remaking “The Birds,” only with all bald eagles--trees covered in ‘em.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">One street held
a small sign: “Canada,” it said, with an arrow. The border was about 20 miles
away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">My excursion was
only 3 hours. Two retired ladies who were enthusiastic hunters and fisherwomen,
took us out along the Chilkat River to look for bears. They knew the bears by
name and personality. This was the season for one of the 5 kinds of salmon, and
there was a salmon-counting station, a weir, that stretched across the river.
You couldn’t park near it because the bears often used the weir to grab dead or
dying fish and cars would spook them. These would be grizzlies, of course,
since grizzlies like to fish and black bears prefer the berries on the upper
mountain slopes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw92-_2zFaCgN8KNAWU9JVxjlh_JGOwnhVGTiVFfhQvgpH2kWz2IPP_xn9wRu8PLxSXnHmF9q7yZFFEfDOkhAHPhzHwptyFGh0xMuLWnHuCr9hMVoPfO-pjI3SnUmOZ4kRwf4_XyJtFNk/s1600/P8300721+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw92-_2zFaCgN8KNAWU9JVxjlh_JGOwnhVGTiVFfhQvgpH2kWz2IPP_xn9wRu8PLxSXnHmF9q7yZFFEfDOkhAHPhzHwptyFGh0xMuLWnHuCr9hMVoPfO-pjI3SnUmOZ4kRwf4_XyJtFNk/s320/P8300721+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The weir.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The ranger sits
at the middle of the weir counting the various number of salmon. They’ve
trained the bears not to come near their spot, and neither species bothers the
other. The bear mamas teach their kids to avoid the center as well. This time
of year is when the pink salmon have finished spawning, and they travel
downstream to die. The weir catches a lot of them, and the bears gather them up,
easy pickings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Watch
where you walk. There are half-carcasses of salmon everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">It’s a beautiful
river and the road ends at a park, where our bus driver yelled at some kids not
to run, because that will catch a bear’s attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Our guide
reiterated what the one in Denali had said: Bears mate in early spring. A male
will kill young bears because their presence will prevent fertilization in the mama
bear. Like I said: mate in early spring. But the female’s body waits to see how
prepared she is for winter, so fertilization doesn’t take place until fall,
when her body will either decide she’s not ready to have a kid, or will
fertilize up to three eggs. The babies are born while Mama’s in hibernation:
tiny, hairless things. By the time Mama gets up they’re the size of puppies and
are covered with thick fur. At age 3, Mama kicks them out of her territory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Our guide also
told us about the ferry that runs in the area. It takes three days to do its
route. She takes it twice a year, due to the dearth of supplies in Haines, to
Juneau, where she hits a Costco and jams her vehicle to the rafters. With that
done, she’s fine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Juneau was our
next stop, a nice, modern town that is cut off from everything. We saw the
“dirty SOB” : the State Office Building that is COVERED with dark gray
blech. Why doesn’t anyone clean it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">We took a bus to
see the famous Mendenhall Glacier but frankly, I was glaciered out. Got some
nice pictures. There’s a pretty waterfall next to the glacier, but we weren’t
there long enough to hike down to see it. The Mendenhall retreats about 20
ft/year. The large lake it sits on wasn’t even there a century ago!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">From there it
was out to the docks – we were going whale watching! By now a cold rain was
falling hard, but we were inside, they had heat, and the hot drinks were free. (On
the return trip the rain had begun to leak inside next to my seat, but there
were plenty empty seats to move to.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">There were
several boats doing the same watch in the Saginaw Channel, and they all kept in
radio contact with each other. We didn’t want to alarm the whales by having too
many boats clustered, though there was one whale – I forget her name – who
loved to show off for the tourists and showed up every day to buzz the boats.
We saw a handful of humpbacks! You’d see them spout, then everyone would go
crazy and the captain would keep watch up where he was, and then sometimes –a
whale body would appear! Sometimes the tail would come up and flip, and the
whale would dive. Wow!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7naIAYK3qr_fZPJVPc6-9GJDrXfERdxNtaz6J4IVjHh9OBxHrOWyG9KFuIxHvQKO0fqyFiReE4sBD615PEtCE27woXg4Ugdgz8fQKTLAj3CjVBiYKeoy7k3_iiFb-BiIBhDABuTLGJ8/s1600/P8310882+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="844" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7naIAYK3qr_fZPJVPc6-9GJDrXfERdxNtaz6J4IVjHh9OBxHrOWyG9KFuIxHvQKO0fqyFiReE4sBD615PEtCE27woXg4Ugdgz8fQKTLAj3CjVBiYKeoy7k3_iiFb-BiIBhDABuTLGJ8/s320/P8310882+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">We also saw sea
lions as well as seals, which we were told were on the bottom of the food chain
in the area. Poor seals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">We stopped for a
fair-to-middlin’ lunch, and then went back to Juneau. One of the men behind me
said to his wife, “I’m cruised out.” After a few days on a gung-ho vacation
that happens. I’d guess the optimum touring vacation is 7 days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I’d planned on
taking a trip on Juneau’s tram up the side of the mountain. Travelogues had
said that on a clear day you could see miles down the bay. Today I couldn’t
even see the top of the tramway. Instead I shopped for a bit. Saw a
cheap-looking necklace that I might be able to stand, and went in to ask the
price. $6000? Thank you and have a good day. Whew!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">There were
expensive jewelry places at every stop along the way. These cruise people must
have a LOT more money than I do!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJz-pVh8oPy9neqwxSdvI2VqWsrY8kq1IWET0xR8ypIoTbRtg_q1mb53Z2zXkdEM72ZDRqMmE1LtNhTzoevGH_uKENXXePRSXEee3fgpo5ud9amBT0SQtAZRiZAPWCYM-Rb7DO2YmBWk/s1600/P9010904+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJz-pVh8oPy9neqwxSdvI2VqWsrY8kq1IWET0xR8ypIoTbRtg_q1mb53Z2zXkdEM72ZDRqMmE1LtNhTzoevGH_uKENXXePRSXEee3fgpo5ud9amBT0SQtAZRiZAPWCYM-Rb7DO2YmBWk/s320/P9010904+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">At Ketchikan we came upon a traffic jam. Four cruise ships were already parked at the four slots of
the dock. We waited in the bay, “tendering” people to shore via lifeboats.
Another cruise ship sidled up to us and snuck its sneaky way into a berth that
was emptying. Hey, we were here first! I watched a steady stream of small planes landing and taking off from some invisible, watery landing strip that lay between the parked ships and ours. The planes maneuvered REALLY close to the docked ships. How is this controlled so no one runs into another? </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Finally another ship left and, after all
our port-side lifeboats returned and were secured, we docked without running into either another ship or a plane.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFtNciAulbdWR0jUstRNTrmI9DnJGgWSM4SLkOrzvSNNJrV_WyR7uNYifRdYgbaM9g4DFgXAJq4p1CNiUMUBUv6LnjShQQ-vNWEn2ytsnU1p6smugd260y3vq3nFTuSQCB3w4TnvnzTLM/s1600/P9010926+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="734" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFtNciAulbdWR0jUstRNTrmI9DnJGgWSM4SLkOrzvSNNJrV_WyR7uNYifRdYgbaM9g4DFgXAJq4p1CNiUMUBUv6LnjShQQ-vNWEn2ytsnU1p6smugd260y3vq3nFTuSQCB3w4TnvnzTLM/s320/P9010926+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sneaking up...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBlOP9epWFaFmDn6N40MnGNWDvzcUnb8szAuZ_UvkU_2UT5Lyhfrcq_VLxB-BUQ7B0byf9QUeI83bV3582bAOL6NcQtqrRXxqHt5ZQkKz-XUj53Rewnp4ltvT5OAjoeoJCLCNmUhHIdM8/s1600/P9010908+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBlOP9epWFaFmDn6N40MnGNWDvzcUnb8szAuZ_UvkU_2UT5Lyhfrcq_VLxB-BUQ7B0byf9QUeI83bV3582bAOL6NcQtqrRXxqHt5ZQkKz-XUj53Rewnp4ltvT5OAjoeoJCLCNmUhHIdM8/s320/P9010908+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Ketchikan runway.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTF1NeZxIumWapC1t234v0ZpLZVN7rYZID_XT_YUIMMtQnPevAc2jeaHStT4tL5v2DsS-7C_oNoWWmkICY5-LG9Byn_tFdt0wGFKALDOIdzZwCekNrZLPqz3JwJK72IsqT70ZQIft9qnA/s1600/P9010921+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTF1NeZxIumWapC1t234v0ZpLZVN7rYZID_XT_YUIMMtQnPevAc2jeaHStT4tL5v2DsS-7C_oNoWWmkICY5-LG9Byn_tFdt0wGFKALDOIdzZwCekNrZLPqz3JwJK72IsqT70ZQIft9qnA/s320/P9010921+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Ketchikan boasts
153” of rain a year. Our trolley driver made rude noises Seattle’s way, calling
the people there a bunch of… ahem… because they complained about how much rain
they had. At most of these stops in Alaska the towns got 4-6 feet of snow per
year, but up on top of the mountains, 20 feet was just the beginning of what
could fall. Ouch!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLIqBqqN4IOEMwMNOyuo-o1kQwEaoo2Nt4EvEWK1E1edlPfbTZEdYfO3R2rcStaLEecl_7h8eOFTG6G3BcWSsT9tdlQ6HJuVIaIrm9Mg3ZdaDDaK7MlupmDfDjcchCu51PIfojQDLtPc/s1600/P9010931+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLIqBqqN4IOEMwMNOyuo-o1kQwEaoo2Nt4EvEWK1E1edlPfbTZEdYfO3R2rcStaLEecl_7h8eOFTG6G3BcWSsT9tdlQ6HJuVIaIrm9Mg3ZdaDDaK7MlupmDfDjcchCu51PIfojQDLtPc/s320/P9010931+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Mr. Seward with the ugly blue hat (and the three marks).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I went on a
short trolley ride (other passengers complained because it cost about $20 and
only lasted an hour) that took us briefly around town – really, not that much
to see – and set us down at a park that had a lot of totem poles. Ketchikan has
the most in the world. One of them depicts William Henry Seward, who is
pictured unflatteringly with three marks against him noted. Apparently he’d
been wined and dined and gifted with significant fortunes of treasures by three
local chieftains when he’d visited, and in return he’d given… nothing. So he’s
enshrined as the World’s Worst Guest, as a warning to others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">One of the
town’s roads was constructed entirely of wood. There’s another very picturesque
road, Creek Street, that is constructed on docking though it doesn’t stick out
over the harbor; it’s just above the creek. Cool beans! I’ll do a painting of
it soon.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTD2GOl25LLwo82B018iVPhy9Yquy7SkOsRYst5bXuFJQbFn994-M3dW0sUFjRc20ivpkTmjaLhM_Tqcy19B_mBSwWDQZQks0H5wwuPjvsF7rbtbMWlgNAaJQAbfvY3pw691Eqhdx6q2c/s1600/P9010942+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTD2GOl25LLwo82B018iVPhy9Yquy7SkOsRYst5bXuFJQbFn994-M3dW0sUFjRc20ivpkTmjaLhM_Tqcy19B_mBSwWDQZQks0H5wwuPjvsF7rbtbMWlgNAaJQAbfvY3pw691Eqhdx6q2c/s320/P9010942+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">That afternoon,
lying flat on my back at the acupuncturist, I wondered where that faint
wheezing noise was coming from. Was that me? Must be the position. That night
at the Pinnacle Grill I coughed. Where’d that come from? And then coughed again.
That was odd. The big man at the table in front of me had a coughing fit. Must
keep away from him!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The next day was
At Sea. I discovered that DayQuil cost $18 in the little on-ship store.
Robbery! But I paid it. I also stole the extra box of Kleenex from my cabin. At
disembarking, I sat next to a very, very sick lady who lay across her husband’s
lap. She’d been quarantined for the past five days, and said the nurse blamed
it on the ship's previous trip to South America.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">But my trip last
year to Britain had resulted in me getting a bad flu on the way home. Now this
trip, same thing. What did they have in common? AUSTRALIANS. Australia was
having its worst flu season ever. DARNED AUSSIES!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I did have the
presence of mind to arrange for my hop-on, hop-off bus tour to be postponed until
the next day and then left to find a cab. It took me to my hotel --
$400/night. I was staying for free on points! ALWAYS GET THOSE FREE HOTEL
CARDS! They come with DEALS. I begged the front desk to get me a room asap.
They asked me what special stuff I needed. “A bed,” I replied. I was in it
within an hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1CFgazm6aMh7bmgDdC8CX-NCqrnq6A6mLTZj__zDF8nyCIkasdridRj6Jb5NdQlul4FHFJAWS1cXuDu5gGYtTwlHanVNdhTx4lUdm4rhMY5LsAOlZ2jfRhxG94JUGPF1soJKOwhTMck/s1600/P9040968+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1CFgazm6aMh7bmgDdC8CX-NCqrnq6A6mLTZj__zDF8nyCIkasdridRj6Jb5NdQlul4FHFJAWS1cXuDu5gGYtTwlHanVNdhTx4lUdm4rhMY5LsAOlZ2jfRhxG94JUGPF1soJKOwhTMck/s320/P9040968+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow -- this guy was using a magnifying glass to BURN<br />
artistic designs into wood!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I was in
Vancouver, stuck in my hotel room! It didn’t look like things were going to get
better with me. In fact, I was rather worried. I used the hotel directory to
call their doctor on call. He had a recording saying he was out, but to leave a
message. Unfortunately you could only leave your phone number, so I called
downstairs and explained the situation, so if he called, they’d direct him to
my room. “Dr. X?” the guy at the desk said. “We don’t have a guest by that
name.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“No,
he’s your doctor on call. He’s listed in your hotel directory.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Really? Hotel directory?” I had
to convince the guy, who still sounded doubtful. (And no, the doctor never returned my call.) So I asked him where the
nearest Urgent Care center was. “What’s that?” The next day I saw several in
the city. But I finally got him to recall that there was a pharmacy a few
blocks away. I dragged myself into the city, a Typhoid Mary, to find it. There
I had a nice conversation with the druggist, who showed me two sets of shelves,
each with the same products… except that the one on the right only contained
sugar-free stuff. I got drugs from there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Hit Subway on
the way back, figuring that surely I must get hungry at some point. I hadn't eaten since the previous night. Slept some
more, even though I ran the risk of sleeping too much. Nope, not with this
crap. I was so tired I forgot to lock my door! The next morning I wondered if
perhaps I should stay an extra day in Vancouver so I wouldn’t be sick as a dog
for the trip home. Asked what the cheapest rooms were at this hotel. $400.
Pshee. Checked other hotels in the area and the thought of transferring my
luggage made me even sicker. At 9 AM I asked the desk for a wakeup call at 10,
an hour before check-out time. At that point I ate two bites of my sandwich (I
was unwilling to toss it in the trash completely wasted) and dragged my butt
out into Vancouver.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Thank the
universe! I was awake. My nose was running a bit, I was coughing a little, but
for that afternoon I felt fairly well. The bus was wide open; all windows,
including the roof, had been removed. It was only a bother along one short
stretch of breezy shoreline, because it was a beautiful summer day in the city!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDU_ZvBH_6jwdE8vlvDCwdPB6TOUOL2JOaeSqrGkHTO1CKy8SW-LtJARIDWaGfPtVzAb-feuu3uu8Ht9FHOHdwDpFR9aVM4lbzJAd-jIvtg4AUsvvn7F-yeZN1XqTRpn2QOX27ct2cTo/s1600/P9040967+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="533" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDU_ZvBH_6jwdE8vlvDCwdPB6TOUOL2JOaeSqrGkHTO1CKy8SW-LtJARIDWaGfPtVzAb-feuu3uu8Ht9FHOHdwDpFR9aVM4lbzJAd-jIvtg4AUsvvn7F-yeZN1XqTRpn2QOX27ct2cTo/s320/P9040967+copy.JPG" width="237" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">VANCOUVER IS
GORGEOUS! The harbor, the mountains, the parks, the public statues, the glass
skyscrapers next to Victorian buildings, and all the cleanliness! People were
out in droves bicycling or just walking, enjoying the day. The bus driver did
take note of the “bad part of town” as we went through it, with drugged people
passed out or about to every few feet, but that passed quickly. Down in Gastown
(named after “Gassy Jack” [this meant he liked to jabber, not that he had
intestinal problems] Deighton) I saw the world’s only steam-powered clock,
which is a tourist highlight. I got off to hit Starbucks and some souvenir
stores, then got back on the same bus (they take a 20 minute break at that
point) and continued around the town. Lovely. Lovely! If the place weren’t so
expensive to live…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIM0ieXvoTL_iezr9CbCo_5A2i7OHghHeERa75qDzOAtt_nBVZrc5h7tUCI7ByvDWQVMQCfslKUxg75AP16aF1wuYkpwr9_ChUZN9epW-kLomyoPJXfjxbKosW1VtOp-uLDxkgm814xH8/s1600/P9040988+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIM0ieXvoTL_iezr9CbCo_5A2i7OHghHeERa75qDzOAtt_nBVZrc5h7tUCI7ByvDWQVMQCfslKUxg75AP16aF1wuYkpwr9_ChUZN9epW-kLomyoPJXfjxbKosW1VtOp-uLDxkgm814xH8/s320/P9040988+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQHkBgoijHEw9ClD0UTTyRcwXqeRAV_8UY2XS59bgg3MRLki5CZjCX7jqloPNCWdbzH8VjXMAEx5LHgPdAm5wokM-BYKt2hmzh9OW7k7QDkmjHZmdIyHzKQdq2C4PCTCdTA9oaxt3MHnY/s1600/P9041001+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQHkBgoijHEw9ClD0UTTyRcwXqeRAV_8UY2XS59bgg3MRLki5CZjCX7jqloPNCWdbzH8VjXMAEx5LHgPdAm5wokM-BYKt2hmzh9OW7k7QDkmjHZmdIyHzKQdq2C4PCTCdTA9oaxt3MHnY/s320/P9041001+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">It was
supposedly a three-hour tour and I thought twice around the city would take me
up to time to leave for the airport. But the second time at Gastown the driver
announced that the bus’ day ended at the port a couple stops ahead. Good
enough, as the tour had gone well beyond its three-hour estimate and we were now into late afternoon. I got off at the port, found a cab, retrieved my luggage
from the hotel, and made my way to the airport.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">But San
Francisco had – would you believe it? – fog. We weren’t leaving from Vancouver until SF
cleared up. A guy behind me said that the pilot on his flight had laid down the
law that he was leaving at 8 PM, come what may. I went to the counter and asked when my flight
would leave. Argh. Would I get into RDU in the morning if I took it? The very
young lady smiled at me, batted her eyelashes, and said, “No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Just
“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Ah,
customer service.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Well,
how do I get there? I need to be there tomorrow morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">“Oh, really?”
She acted like she’d never heard such a thing, no one had ever made such a
request. After a full ten, maybe fifteen minutes of her type type typing, she
got me transferred to the flight that had been scheduled just before mine (the
one with the obstinant pilot). I went to sit with that crowd. You know, you’d
think they’d have some kind of easier computer thing to transfer passengers.
Hit two buttons – presto. Hit another one, and their luggage travels with them.
Am I just being too radical here?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I think we left
at 7:45. What would happen when we hit SF? The outgoing planes were just as
delayed as we were, so maybe… Still, having to take an extra day in SF wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">We had to wait
again for our connecting plane to arrive. Eventually it did. Again I had one of
those first-in-the-cabin seats where you can’t hold anything, but the flight
attendant gave in to me begging to hold on to my box of Kleenex. “I’ll hold it
like a puppy,” I promised.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I hadn’t been
able to eat the snack they’d given us on the first flight (had it a few days
later; a fine cookie), and turned up my nose at what was likely a palatable
dinner on this flight. I honked and coughed and tried to aim away from
everyone. My throat was dry as a bone, and I succeeded twice in attracting the attention
of the attendant so I could get something to drink. I could barely swallow, but
boy! It was so nice to get something liquid into me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Home again, home
again, practically at the original time I was supposed to arrive. When I was in
Glacier Bay I’d imagined popping my luggage in my car then ripping off my tee
shirt to reveal the super suit beneath. I’d bound off to north Raleigh,
stopping at Jerry’s Artarama to pick up some enormous canvases so I could zip
back home, immediately painting masterpieces of glaciers!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Ah, didn’t quite
do that. Don’t know how I managed it but I drove in the opposite direction of
Jerry’s. I was swerving all over the highway by the time I got within five
miles of home. Good thing it was after morning rush hour; there was almost no
one else on the road. Exhausted!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I managed to
climb to my front door and then threw myself into bed. I de-coma-fied a few
hours later to empty the car. My neighbor came over to tell me he’d fed my
fish while I was away, but I had to stand there and say, “Uhh muh gruhh.” COUGH COUGH HONK! “Duh
argh.” I think he got the message. It’s been 2 1/12 weeks and I think I might
be able to make it over to his place to thank him coherently for his efforts
and present him with a deck of genuine Alaska cards. Well, maybe tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">The moral to
this all is: GET YOUR FLU SHOT! And buy the beverage package.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-49018827602224122062017-09-20T12:00:00.000-04:002017-10-01T08:59:11.712-04:00Alaska, part 2: Shipboard life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJ9iKZsfiLJzISotT-_JhoMxyzoS3YtvDVh0JkJdXRFPUTX5hyyCwd8zOizarmRkWpc7NMPaPdLJHp49BnyuQrS4EYeuPwx-t2OwAxpWkJ8ytRIT_IsLIzoPVt2i4Z-8vtf3amcpt71A/s1600/pretty+mountain.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJ9iKZsfiLJzISotT-_JhoMxyzoS3YtvDVh0JkJdXRFPUTX5hyyCwd8zOizarmRkWpc7NMPaPdLJHp49BnyuQrS4EYeuPwx-t2OwAxpWkJ8ytRIT_IsLIzoPVt2i4Z-8vtf3amcpt71A/s320/pretty+mountain.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I headed for the back of the bus, where there<span style="font-family: "ms 明朝" , serif;">’</span>s
almost always empty seats available to stretch out on. Success! We rolled away
from beautiful Denali, rumbling through mountain and river territory. At Broad Pass,
the Talkeetna Mountains formed a straight line to the east of us, rising
suddenly above the river plain like someone had lined them up.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We lunched in Wasilla, home of you-know-who... or is it? One
guide told us she still lived there part of the year, and another guide said
she<span style="font-family: "ms 明朝" , "serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">’</span>d moved to Arizona or someplace, near her daughter.
Anyway, the town was pretty and had a large, lovely lake. It also had a
restaurant that specialized in sudden, large crowds like tour buses. They
served sandwich fixings and had bathrooms with real water. The parking lot had
a quickie mart (with liquor) and an ice cream stand, which reminds me that
Alaska has the highest per capita consumption of both coffee (understandable)
and ice cream.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I think it was at Wasilla that the driver said that that fake "reality" show that chronicles a family setting up a homestead deep within the most remote, coldest regions of Alaska, is filmed about fifteen minutes outside the town. The family & everyone bed down very comfortably every night in town, and every weekend can be found partying either in town or down the road in Anchorage. Locals are very embarrassed by the deception.</div>
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We drove past what was little more than a crossroads,
Willow. In 1976 Alaskans voted to make Willow the new capital. They didn<span style="font-family: "ms 明朝" , "serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">’</span>t
want Anchorage, the largest city, to be that, and thought the idea of a capital
like Juneau, which is only reachable by <span style="font-family: "ms 明朝" , "serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“</span>boat, plane, or birth
canal,<span style="font-family: "ms 明朝" , "serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">”</span> was ridiculous. Which it is. Even if 1 in 6 Alaskans
owns a plane. I mean, the State Fair was starting when we were there, and they
couldn<span style="font-family: "ms 明朝" , "serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">’</span>t hold it at Juneau because THERE ARE NO ROADS leading
there! Willow<span style="font-family: "ms 明朝" , "serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">’</span>s on a major highway between
Anchorage and Fairbanks; seemed a good pick to me. Anyway, the people in Juneau
didn<span style="font-family: "ms 明朝" , "serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">’</span>t want to relocate, so they blocked the funding to move
everything, got another resolution on the docket, and in 1982 made sure Juneau
stayed the state capital.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We had some conversations on the bus
and at lunch. Once a lady said, “Don’t tell ‘em you’ve been coughing or
sneezing or you’ll be in quarantine for two days.” I’d keep that in mind…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Our very funny bus driver was retired from his regular job and now works part-time for Holland-America. His son works for one of the airlines. They thus get free cruises and flights. He wants his wife to work for a rental car agency.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Anyway, he pointed out the "Alaskan mosquito eggs" that sometimes appeared over the highway. They're large orange ovals on electric lines that cross the highway. This is in case a pilot has to make an emergency landing on the roadway. They see the "eggs," and they won't hit the lines. Do emergency landings really happen that often?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8o1wIIv5Rk9cfQ2g10_BwaNUHVgJ-oFjhSSTTgEiCP7qS9oEInMxRpvBYGpnQc2hzKx9q-QujrgzcaUwhaepED66vCtv2_i6mPa1etkRhQw8NuYtigSqwWyq6XD1XzFebHWxy8_FzlBI/s1600/beach.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8o1wIIv5Rk9cfQ2g10_BwaNUHVgJ-oFjhSSTTgEiCP7qS9oEInMxRpvBYGpnQc2hzKx9q-QujrgzcaUwhaepED66vCtv2_i6mPa1etkRhQw8NuYtigSqwWyq6XD1XzFebHWxy8_FzlBI/s320/beach.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqOwqSenTnVt34_ZNGK4KgEJhrO5PKwn3RoU38hkL0Joe4fpm7fpGSwfTo7rawjyHY5s7dfSfj3tnuvsVu58pbBqyE6CU6Dbt9e0SR-OJDsghZERDYugs37RS5Eamgz9w4s4reAMmxfU/s1600/american+tardis.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqOwqSenTnVt34_ZNGK4KgEJhrO5PKwn3RoU38hkL0Joe4fpm7fpGSwfTo7rawjyHY5s7dfSfj3tnuvsVu58pbBqyE6CU6Dbt9e0SR-OJDsghZERDYugs37RS5Eamgz9w4s4reAMmxfU/s320/american+tardis.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the highway to Seward. The American TARDIS. Bring your Purell.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We reached Anchorage, which is a
nice-looking, neat, small city. Then we swung off to go to Seward. That road
has been voted one of the most scenic highways in the US, for good reason! The
road follows a rocky coastline with the mountains and high-meadow glaciers in
the background. The tides there are the second-highest in North America
(coming, I assume, after the Bay of Fundy). When you get away from the coast mammoth
mountains come down to touch the highway. In some ways, especially with the
little shacks here and there, it reminded me of the Appalachian Mountains… but
bigger. Much bigger. The scenery was jaw-dropping. I was so glad not to be
driving, because I would have driven us right off the road from gawping at
everything!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGIJstX7A7zQaGQ57CbG8Azn7viFXM2ex3H9eScZJwUR_9UXMc4VUJLYejKkSVBO6LmqBPBqoMD3dfdoO-ezsaMiRppAF1PNTZgc_4Kfp0QPVvkW3AcgaUAEaFnJf6reKFPSruogmB40/s1600/seward.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGIJstX7A7zQaGQ57CbG8Azn7viFXM2ex3H9eScZJwUR_9UXMc4VUJLYejKkSVBO6LmqBPBqoMD3dfdoO-ezsaMiRppAF1PNTZgc_4Kfp0QPVvkW3AcgaUAEaFnJf6reKFPSruogmB40/s320/seward.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seward</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We arrived at Seward around 4 to go
through customs and pre-cruise identification procedures, then get on the
walkway that led inside the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">MS Zaandam</i>.
You get a card with a bar code on it, and you use that not only as a key for
your room, but to pay for everything (you have a credit card on file) (funny
thing; I came home to find that someone had hacked into that card) and identify
yourself when boarding or disembarking. They also take a picture of you that is
linked in their computer system.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir6thZ7do0CJ0UiQZS1dLmkYJru_wYqoJEM1liDi4EtZ-OlGQCR8JN04XC1v8Lk8lM0wgEjhWEdsRbyEr1HgHcbNGY6uoZalebYNidfiOkAXBhb7d3PBG5Gtr8quhrTpey1YaNHSR6xNw/s1600/Zaandam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir6thZ7do0CJ0UiQZS1dLmkYJru_wYqoJEM1liDi4EtZ-OlGQCR8JN04XC1v8Lk8lM0wgEjhWEdsRbyEr1HgHcbNGY6uoZalebYNidfiOkAXBhb7d3PBG5Gtr8quhrTpey1YaNHSR6xNw/s320/Zaandam.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My room was practically at the aft of
the ship, just a few rooms from the end of the hall. I got into it a little
after 4. There was a ship’s schedule waiting for me, to find that an orientation
lecture had been scheduled… for 4:00. Our bus was the first bunch of passengers
to arrive to the ship, other than people who were staying on board after the
last cruise. (Yes, people do that.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why
would they schedule orientation BEFORE people came on board? As it was, I got
in the very long line at the information desk and had to listen to the same
questions being asked over and over, questions likely covered at orientation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was housed on the Main Deck, Deck 2.
There was a passenger deck below me, and one more deck below that that we used
to disembark a couple times from, the A deck, which was also where the doctor
was. “The Dining Room” was in the aft section of Decks 4 and 5. (Theoretically
it was reservations only on Deck 5 and walk-ins on Deck 4.) You couldn’t get to
the foredeck of Deck 4 from there. Deck 5 had the lovely Explorations Café,
library, a couple bars, etc etc. Foredeck of Deck 4 had the info desk, art and
photography places, I think the Pinnacle Grill, and a few bars and the casino.
Can’t recall where the Mondrian lecture/entertainment hall was, but it was in
the fore of one of the upper decks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ipbyW36F-pMTke3T4N8Wf2ACAccINmhOa8TQyBngMM_aRkeM3kG6zaeCKuEF0ikEtdKgfx0YEGVs5bzU5IBrxcph6gQNHX0sth3FEe67B-PfEAGtl1kFVwg5YF_iu_JPq5etVgY-78k/s1600/promenade.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ipbyW36F-pMTke3T4N8Wf2ACAccINmhOa8TQyBngMM_aRkeM3kG6zaeCKuEF0ikEtdKgfx0YEGVs5bzU5IBrxcph6gQNHX0sth3FEe67B-PfEAGtl1kFVwg5YF_iu_JPq5etVgY-78k/s320/promenade.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You could get to the outside deck
promenade from Deck 4 (“Lower promenade”) only, even if two other decks were
called variants of “promenade.” Two times around equaled one mile. There was a mini-promenade up at the top of the ship. The ship’s
write-up says there are basketball and tennis courts, but I never saw those.
Let’s see… Going up from Deck 5: Cabin deck, cabin deck, Lido deck (8) had the
cafeteria, gym, massage, etc. and enclosed pool as well as open pool, and Deck
9 was the way to the top for viewing Glacier Bay. I think Deck 9 also had an
enclosed forward viewing room with a bar, but I was fairly lost when I found
that. The elevators were fast as hell, and quite helpfully had rugs that informed
you what day of the week it was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With all the decks it should come as no
surprise that, even with the elevator, it was easy to get 10,000 steps in each
day. If I went out on a tour, I got around 6000, but if we were cruising, it
was 10,000-12,000.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I had a window in my room as well as a
queen- or maybe king-sized bed. It was two twins shoved together and yes, you
could feel the central seam. There was a small couch and a desk with a chair.
There were four closets, only one of which was large enough to fit my large
piece of luggage in. There was ONE outlet. I called room service and they found
me a multi-outlet extension so I could charge my stuff. I told this to other
passengers, who had been complaining about the one-outlet situation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2M_N2Q3l78ucVlgxTuOkrJjqNrt9_3glLGJ3PfuECjp42-uyzgWj_eb1FORaW_7kHM30VkrAq5J8ezXnv_IJHXxIlyKQqpibPR3wZN6HIsOMqjyKfUPWg4gc_U9iO7EGyhO_k9mz2AzY/s1600/rug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2M_N2Q3l78ucVlgxTuOkrJjqNrt9_3glLGJ3PfuECjp42-uyzgWj_eb1FORaW_7kHM30VkrAq5J8ezXnv_IJHXxIlyKQqpibPR3wZN6HIsOMqjyKfUPWg4gc_U9iO7EGyhO_k9mz2AzY/s320/rug.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So easy to lose track of time when you're onboard. The elevator rugs were changed every day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lifeboat drill was at 7PM the first day. If you didn’t
show up, you were kicked off the ship. Your card was scanned, the crew checked
it against your picture, and we all now knew where our boat was located. Some
people complained later because the drill hadn’t been done to their exacting
expectations, something about lining people up in order or something. I think
they were insulted to be included with “ordinary” passengers, maybe. I didn’t
get it. It seemed organized enough to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was surprised to see all the people
in wheelchairs. Some of the excursion tours specified that they welcomed
wheelchairs, but most didn’t. In fact, some said things like, “You must be able
to walk 400 yards down a gentle hill and back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There was a gathering for friends of
some guy, and also a group of gays on board, both of which got their meeting
places noted in our newsletter every day. The gays (am I stereotyping? Sorry)
seemed to hang out in the gym. Every time I went by, there were all these
gorgeous Adonis types on the machinery in their immaculate gym togs. Must be gays,
right? And there was one very fit lady as well. I’m not going to get on a
treadmill among the perfect-bodied! Go down the hallway to the inside pool, and
there were all the out-of-shape men having a great time. Good to see it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The ship info manual mentioned that if
you had diarrhea and vomiting, you MUST see the ship’s doctor. Thanks to
cutting my metformin pills in half, the first symptom was minimized quickly,
and I never had the second one, nyah. I heard of three people who were
quarantined during the trip. At disembarking, I met a miserable woman who’d
been quarantined for five days of the trip, and was still feeling lousy. She
said a nurse had told her that the ship had been in South America before it
went on the Alaska trip, and that they were having flu season down there, so
the ship had brought that back. On the news I heard that Australia was having
its worst flu season ever. There were a LOT of Australians on board. Hm. EVIL
AUSTRALIANS! EVIL AUSTRALIANS! No wonder by the second to last day of the trip
I’d begun to cough. (As of this writing, some 2 ½ weeks later, I’m still trying
to get over the plague. GET YOUR FLU SHOT!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSrvOyH_zlygF9B49cKwoHP_VsVK9jg_SdoieZ8ewncCaQimIVb7ScUgZTvJ3L-RVO-oIofGRX0g3fAmOy9gateQwTptPG8RMMfas0sDSfO2rsFJY58FSnxoSiftBD0ERWFmlKz8ATXM/s1600/office.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSrvOyH_zlygF9B49cKwoHP_VsVK9jg_SdoieZ8ewncCaQimIVb7ScUgZTvJ3L-RVO-oIofGRX0g3fAmOy9gateQwTptPG8RMMfas0sDSfO2rsFJY58FSnxoSiftBD0ERWFmlKz8ATXM/s320/office.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My office in the library. How's that for a view?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was glad I’d bought the drinks
package. I don’t drink alcohol, but that package covered any drink under $7,
and something like up to 12 or 17 drinks a day. I think it paid for itself a
few times over. I also bought the internet package, which was 100 minutes for
$50. !!! Highway robbery! And to make it worse, the internet often didn’t work,
and when it did it took FOREVER. Forget trying to post a picture on Facebook,
much less a quick movie. Just trying to get Facebook to come up took five or
eight minutes, if it ever did. Tick tick tick. They had a sale for ½ hour
internet on the day before we disembarked, so people could print out their
boarding passes. Who were they kidding?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You could also sign up for laundry
service at $7/day. Or you could do itemized laundry. There was a passenger coin
laundry on Deck A. I opted for the “everything you can fit into this tiny bag
for $20” service. I don’t turn down dares. I had that bag stuffed within an
inch of its life! Then I turned around and did the same thing a few days later.
It was still cheaper than the $7/day service, and I didn’t have to waste time
sitting next to a dryer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The next day after boarding (or was it
the one after that?) my sister, who NEVER posts on FB, posted a message that
our mother was in the hospital. She’d tried to get through to me using the ship’s
emergency number, but they said that unless Mom were dead, they wouldn’t
connect her. Luckily the next day I got another message saying that Mom was
just fine now, whew. I was making plans to call shore, even if such phone calls
were $8/minute!!!!, but figured a quick message to her telling her that I’d
received the message was good enough. As for cell service, about half the
people said they could get a signal if we were in port, and half said they
couldn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">TV was ship shopping channels, a “this
is where we are” navigation channel, a couple 24-hour news channels, plus two
movie channels that ran the same movie all day long. Sometimes only the
shopping and movie channels worked. The ship had a library of 10,000 DVDs and a
player in each room, which I wish I’d known about, as I’d have brought some
DVDs from home that I’ve been meaning to watch.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
We watched reports of Hurricane Harvey. There were QUITE a few people from Houston, but all reported that their homes had weathered the storm without incident. Yay!<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NWXZpa-L3uais_xomSP6uovGKThJawJiuUyYibbD2EndhBVDUU_0Atzvf0FrlnBB5z7Bl2SjfkTR_RnzPnBWe8k02QoGxlcLuIibUpZfy0jexo7NdxPHLVL5GcltTCkTTU65xFHFbBM/s1600/map+of+ship.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NWXZpa-L3uais_xomSP6uovGKThJawJiuUyYibbD2EndhBVDUU_0Atzvf0FrlnBB5z7Bl2SjfkTR_RnzPnBWe8k02QoGxlcLuIibUpZfy0jexo7NdxPHLVL5GcltTCkTTU65xFHFbBM/s320/map+of+ship.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The ship was smaller than I expected.
Guess the Caribbean ones are huge? This one held 1400 passengers. There was the
regular restaurant, “The Dining Room,” which had two galas during the cruise. I
went to the info desk and asked if I was dressed up enough to attend. The woman
there looked me up and down and gave me a scathingly sour look. “Yes or no?” I
demanded, but she refused to say. Bitch. The next day I asked some passengers
and they said that was ridiculous, that some men had been in shorts at the
gala. One man said, “By god, I paid $8000 for this cruise. They’ll let me in
when I say they will!” Whew, $8000? He must have had a suite. There was also a
surprise Luncheon for Big Wigs and Important Crew Members one day so everyone
else had to troop up to the Lido to eat. Dining Room, Lido, and room service
were the no-charge eating venues.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Some people dressed up even if there
wasn’t a gala and it was just lunch. I figured they’d watched too many episodes
of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love Boat.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The galas were an excuse for the cruise
to charge for photographers to take your picture. The cruise was one big con shop
everywhere you turned. You got your picture made when you boarded, and could
buy it for an outrageous price. There was an art store (they were always having
art auctions) with ugly, amateurish paintings – all prints, as far as I could
see – marked at sky-high prices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For a couple days the art place had a
Thomas Kinkade print on main display. I stopped to admire it, not noticing the
signature until the end. It was a pleasant, plein-air-looking landscape piece,
about 11x14”. It was marked 236/775. I asked how much it was going for. The
lady told me that ordinarily it went unframed for $350, but if I bought it on
the ship, I could get it for $225 or something like that. Let me see… A Kinkade
print that didn’t show one of his trademark thatched-roof houses or candles in
a window. $225 x 775 prints = $174,375 for the print run. And that was just one
size. They can make other print runs at other sizes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Are you kidding me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The rest of the inventory was very
tired, anonymous figurative crap along with garish Peter Max crap. I heard one
of the dealers on a one-on-one with a couple looking at a Max sculpture that
looked like a very ugly lamp from the Sixties. He sounded like he was selling
them a timeshare and they had to buy to get in on this offer within the next 60
minutes, or else! Sheesh. I also heard bids for $3000 coming over the wall at
one of the auctions. People getting fleeced…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One day I was sitting in a lounge and
heard the acupuncturist lecture on various types of acupuncture. She mentioned
obesity. I figured what the heck, and asked at the desk about prices. I’d been
thinking about going to my acupuncturist because he’d been talking obesity
needles. This seemed a bit more expensive than he (of course), but what the
hey, I was on a cruise. I signed up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The first round was pleasant enough. As
I was “soaking” I noticed that the office had a framed set of Dutch tulip
tiles. The top two tiles on the left were switched, so the overall picture was
disjointed. I begged the acupuncturist to give me an Xacto and some glue, so I
could correct it. She didn’t break a smile. She was all Asian Seriousness. On
the second round of treatment the next day (and I don’t think I got everything
I paid for on that one), she was in an even more sour mood. She started muttering
about how chocolate cake had 250 calories (she came up with the number out of
thin air) and mutter mutter this and that, calories, calories. I think she didn’t
like that I didn’t want to buy any of her expensive lotions and nutritional
crap.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Like most Holland-America employees she spoke English with a thick, sometimes impenetrable accent. (Which was better than the way I spoke their languages.) She asked me one question and I answered. Then she asked it again. I answered, trying to speak clearly in case she hadn't understood me. In that session she must have asked me the same question ten times. I think it was a little game she played. I don't think she liked her patients.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There was a waiter with a fancier uniform than the rest, in the Dining Room. He spoke almost perfect English. "I am Brazilian!" he'd loudly announce to the room a few times during the evening.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I had a hot stone massage as well. A
lady at my home acupuncturist’s told me that I should “let yourself go” to get
the best results. So I tried. Meh. Hot stones. Rubbing. The masseuse wanted me
to buy lots of lotions. When I refused politely, he treated me like I was just
a lump of flesh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When you don’t buy, they stop being civil
to you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There was a jewelry shop with expensive
crap. A very small casino. A library. A gaming room next to that library. A
jigsaw puzzle room that connected the last two. A couple bars with various
music at night. A theater for lectures and night entertainment. A cooking
schoolroom. An electronics schoolroom. A gym. A beauty parlor. The
afore-mentioned acupuncturist and masseuse. An indoor pool and Jacuzzi. An
outdoor pool that I didn’t find until the final day, that no one was in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When not on an excursion I stayed at
lot in the library, next to the Explorations Café. I could set up my computer and
work on editing a book (something I’d been looking forward to) while the ocean
and sometimes shore spread out in front of me. Plus, I could get a chai from
the café to keep me going. There were only a few times when loud, chattering
women came in to spoil the quiet atmosphere. They quickly left, I think due to chess-playing
patrons giving them dirty looks. I got a lot of work done and enjoyed the vibes!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There were a couple restaurants I never
went into because one only served groups family style, and I was a single (they
charged extra anyway), and another that just didn’t have an interesting menu
(also an extra charge). The Lido deck was mostly filled with a cafeteria
serving a variety of food. You could find a decent salad there, but heaven help
you find some place to sit to eat! It was rushed and noisy. It was there that
served ice cream through the day, but that post wasn’t staffed and people had
to run get someone to come, and they never knew exactly what was going on and
where the chocolate sauce was kept and… Before and after mealtime, though, the
Lido was a fine place to visit. You could sit and have a cup of tea or ice
cream and look out the windows in relative peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Finally there was the Pinnacle Room, to
which I got one reservation as part of the cruise (otherwise it very much cost
extra). You had to dress up. I put on a nice blouse and said what the heck; I
have a reservation. At the worst they can seat me in a dark corner. There I
finally had my shrimp cocktail. It had three shrimp. Three ENORMOUS shrimp. I
also got the petite filet mignon, which was one of the three best steaks I’ve had
in my life. It was pretty big and came alone on a huge white plate. The
potatoes came on their own large plate. The brussels sprouts came on their own large
plate. ??? Great food, but those folks HAVE to work on their plating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Food servings were modest (except the
Pinnacle Room, where we all stuffed our faces) (the Pinnacle Room usually costs
extra!). Desserts were also modest in volume, which I appreciated. The Dining
Room’s fare varied widely in quality. I had some decent food there, but I also
had some onion soup that didn’t have any onion in it, some crab cakes made
without crab (it was just crispy breading), and some pretty bland crap. Good
bread always, though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Almost every day there was a tea at 3PM
in the Dining Room. I attended the first full day, and was seated with a
variety of other single ladies. One of them was pretentious out the wazoo, and
we all waggled our eyebrows at each other at her statements. We were offered
one kind of tea only, though I spotted one waiter with a variety box. I was given
hot water but no tea, and had to flag down someone who didn’t apologize. The
sandwiches were tunafish and something else – no cucumber sammies here – and
tiny sweets that one could find on Lido and the Explorations Café (the coffee
bar next to where I hung out).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The next time I take a cruise I might
take a blouse with a little glitter, but even if I forget that, I’ll still
attend the galas if their menu looks good. (Note: on gala nights I had the same
menu with room service, which didn’t cost anything extra.) I’ll continue to
hang around the Explorations Café because you can’t beat that view while you
write, and the baristas were fun and friendly, and quickly knew I took chai
latte. Grande, please, if I were working on a sex scene.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeVLZ6X_aXkZZ8VlPNwUHY-26A3xl9oOBfc9OSp_35NVANo5d45dY0qh8tZog2viON3NWWYQbuQQckoy6gN7sR59uBB7HNSv5w51_PME3BvexFoBiOKLJKf5yUxL1MHg_QcXPNxAz1L4/s1600/rough+seas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeVLZ6X_aXkZZ8VlPNwUHY-26A3xl9oOBfc9OSp_35NVANo5d45dY0qh8tZog2viON3NWWYQbuQQckoy6gN7sR59uBB7HNSv5w51_PME3BvexFoBiOKLJKf5yUxL1MHg_QcXPNxAz1L4/s320/rough+seas.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rough seas!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Our first full day was a Day At Sea.
The evening before, the captain had come on the intercom to explain that some
big storm was brewing with 50 mph winds and (iIrc) 20-foot seas, so he was
altering our course and taking us closer to the coast. Whew. That night I woke
up thinking I was on final approach to Anchorage – we were rocking and rolling!
The next day it was funny to watch everyone walking down the hallways. You’d
start off on the right side and then step-step-step until you were on the left,
and then step-step-step to get back to the right as the ship rolled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They closed all but two of the doors to
the promenade (I didn’t know it at the time) and when I went out for a walk I
began to get worried about just how safe that railing was. We were rolling, the
ocean was splashing, we had a bit of rain coming onto the decking, and you
couldn’t walk a straight line to save your life. Then when you said, “The heck
with this!” and tried to go in – the door was blocked from the inside. I tried
all the doors I could find until I found one that was still open. It might have
been the one I came out of. The rolling didn’t stop until we entered Glacier Bay the next day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS55-uTh2LYvr7AiVl8EX9ltFMeCJ3JYX7rtX3odcbzuPMKzw_dm0fHUPKctjMiuUKEoHv4tAGJILZDg4DOY6wi_5B7SKmQQ2USfd-MyOYDEjsV1NFy-Rl4hfiWkvdq6gxIAnPs1XP26A/s1600/workshop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS55-uTh2LYvr7AiVl8EX9ltFMeCJ3JYX7rtX3odcbzuPMKzw_dm0fHUPKctjMiuUKEoHv4tAGJILZDg4DOY6wi_5B7SKmQQ2USfd-MyOYDEjsV1NFy-Rl4hfiWkvdq6gxIAnPs1XP26A/s320/workshop.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The computer workshops were a dud as
far as I was concerned, because they were for PCs and I’m so definitely a Mac.
However, one workshop was “how to use your digital camera.” It was SRO, and I
learned that my little Olympia can do many fabulous things! We were all
exclaiming in delight as we discovered the wonders of our cameras! Later in
Glacier Bay the instructor was on deck showing people the best way to
photograph wildlife, but I was busy and couldn’t attend, but before it began I
thanked her profusely for the camera workshop. Bravo! I made note of her on my
survey later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Which reminds me: the BEST buy I made for
this trip was a camera strap. It took a while to figure out how to attach the
camera to it (instructions were microscopic, and the YouTube video had the guy
covering up what his fingers were doing), but once it was on, it was What I
Wore. I felt naked going out of my cabin without it. So handy! Before I’d
always had the camera bag bump-bumping around off my purse, to which it was
attached, but now I could just reach down and bring up the camera and click! I took
1004 pictures on this trip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEictXmwsKtXbtELzrSCx0x3KGz6X_TZzBztr9kmOd4-f06OI8VbIf5QvN6Bk53Z92HCCRWGWGvs1HCUSIbbOREl1U9lVdgopU6OxrwZW21h-bU4J4OQuhGMTz1IZkJjzIGt2P41vu_ZSK8/s1600/purell.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="734" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEictXmwsKtXbtELzrSCx0x3KGz6X_TZzBztr9kmOd4-f06OI8VbIf5QvN6Bk53Z92HCCRWGWGvs1HCUSIbbOREl1U9lVdgopU6OxrwZW21h-bU4J4OQuhGMTz1IZkJjzIGt2P41vu_ZSK8/s320/purell.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hand-washing station outside the Lido cafeteria.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Let’s see. Before we got on we were
told there were four rules of cruising: (1) Wash your hands. (2) Wash your
hands. (3) Wash your hands. (4) Attend the lifeboat drill. Every restaurant had
a fancy Purell stand at its entry, and the Lido had an automatic hand-washer. You
know those Dyson hand dryers in airport restrooms? (I was gratified to see at
least three other brands of them now.) It’s like that, you put your hands down
into the holes and suddenly water rushes all around you, sounding like a
dishwasher. Heaven help you if you’re wearing delicate hand jewelry. After a
while the cycle ends and you use a paper towel to dry off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Public restrooms on board had plaques
inside the outer doors telling you to use a paper towel (dispenser next to the
plaque) to open the door. National park pit toilets kept their Purell bottles
pretty much stocked up. Non-national park pit toilets usually didn’t have a
bottle of Purell. Keep a bottle with you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Shipboard internet (free!) gave us our
schedules every day, and we also got a printout of the more general “what’s
going on” daily schedule every evening. These would tell us when the ship would
dock and when we had to be back onboard. One day I was hanging out on the
promenade at onboard-time, and watched as the last people hurried up the
gangplank to the ship. After a few minutes the gates closed. Two people came
walking quickly up the dock, and were let in. About twenty minutes later, right
before we were supposed to set off, a guy comes running up the dock. They had
to open the gates to let him in, and he ran all the way. Whew!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Rules are: if you were on a
ship-sanctioned expedition, the ship would wait for you if you were late
getting back. If you were off on your own, the ship would NOT wait. It was up
to you to make it to the next stop, if you could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Next: Ports of call!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-91884740049337716072017-09-18T12:00:00.000-04:002017-10-01T08:56:52.072-04:00My Alaska Cruise<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfzAb9gwAoTqpmv7qClBPDS6pVPiH1TEWF5uSyJHUot1crerukvEw4Rizo4hg2kf20dI2TkH7L5rqL_rorvoQlAtndhLpL09y6VCX8_rRu1soI6SQlxqM6Tx3PcXPgD9NkJZQvkVwXfQ/s1600/glacial+river.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfzAb9gwAoTqpmv7qClBPDS6pVPiH1TEWF5uSyJHUot1crerukvEw4Rizo4hg2kf20dI2TkH7L5rqL_rorvoQlAtndhLpL09y6VCX8_rRu1soI6SQlxqM6Tx3PcXPgD9NkJZQvkVwXfQ/s320/glacial+river.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aug-Sept 2017<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’d heard that
October is the month to buy cruises, as that’s when they go on sale. Thirty
days in advance is also the time to get a good buy, getting a bargain on unsold
rooms, but for a big cruise like I’d planned… naw, October.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So last October I went to the
Holland-America site. I’d heard they were the most adult-friendly (as in
practically no kids) cruises. (One of my co-workers said they were “cruises for
geezers,” while giving me a full up-and-down perusal like I was something she'd just scraped off the bottom of her shoe. Lovely woman.) We
didn’t yet have a job schedule for 2017, so I took a guess and found a
likely-looking date. Then I told Francine, our Production Manager, and she said
no problem, the August-September portion of the 2017 schedule could be built around my vacation. Well it
wasn’t, but we did warn the printers in plenty of time to expect a couple days’
delay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">About three weeks
before departure, I began making my packing lists, which grew slightly as time
passed. The week before departure I’m usually running crazy out of my mind, so
it’s good to have The List so I can check things off as they go into the
luggage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Which was new.
Cruises highly recommend hard-sided luggage, and mine was soft. A co-worker
told me Macy’s was having a significant sale so I picked up some there. The
carryon and middle size were fine, but Macy’s didn’t measure wheels for the
large size. Airlines do. They were oversized by an inch, maybe two. Fellow
travelers on Facebook assured me this would be no problem, though the airline’s
help line told me I’d have to pay an extra $200 for the bag. Turned out: no
problem. Whew!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But man, that bag
is BIG. It weighed about 35 lbs when I went to the airport, and it did NOT want
to get off the moving slidewalk. I almost face-planted as I tried to maneuver
it and the carryon about. For the return trip, I rented one of those carts they have.
Worked much better (especially since by then I was using my backpack as my
carryon, making three pieces of luggage to lug about).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Note to self:
before my next big vacation, GET A FLU SHOT!!!!!! Cue the ominous music, but
we’ll get to that at the end of this multi-part report.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A few years ago
I’d taken a New England Fall foliage tour. Our guide had been in the Alaska
tour biz a few years before and he warned us NEVER to book an Alaska land tour
before June 1. Then he hauled out a picture of himself applying snow chains to
the bus on May 31. Always take the land part first so you can relax on the
cruise afterward, he also advised.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So that’s what I
was doing: the Denali/coastal Alaska tour. Luck was with me! Our quarterly goals came in early –
the day before I took off. Yay, I had money! When I got to the airport I
discovered that yay, I also had great seats! The very front. You have to secure
your purse in the overhead bins, but you can stretch your legs. It was going to be a
loooong trip, longer than the one to England. I made sure to stretch as much as I could. I’d heard stories about
long airplane trips and blood clots.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At Denver we
arrived at gate 16. My next plane was gate 55. I made my way at a fair rate of
speed down the ten miles or so (it seemed) there, asked at the gate if I had
time to grab lunch, and they assured me I had 20 minutes. That meant four bites of a delicious if overstuffed burrito! I got out of a quick trip to the ladies’
room to discover… a ghost town!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Have
I missed a gate change?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Gate
15. It’s leaving at the same time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ARRRRGGHHH!!! I
RAN back through the airport fast as I could. I figured everyone else was having to
do the same thing so I really didn’t need to run quite so fast – I wasn’t that
far behind them – but I still ran. Got back to where I’d begun and they hadn’t
started to board yet, whew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As we neared
Anchorage, the pilot warned us of
uneven terrain causing turbulence in the air, as well as the presence of 50 mph
winds. The plane began to lurch and rock violently! Thank goodness for seat belts! My
seat mate, who was making the trip from NYC to see her boyfriend for the
weekend, kept clutching her seat arms and moaning, "Jesus! JEEEZUS!"
Then we were out of it and sailed calmly into town.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Anchorage airport has
a slew of interesting architecture in its complex, but none is cohesive. The
main building has curved eaves, as if inviting snow to begin to pile on it
because it can hold lots. ??? You’d think they’d want a roof that discouraged
snow accumulation.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Along the way it seemed that every time we turned a corner, our driver would give a new name to the mountains that surround the city. It turns out that you can see six mountain ranges from Anchorage: the Chugach, Kenai, Talkeetna, Tordrillo, Alaska, and Aleutians.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The hotel was a nice one
in its day, but that day was long gone. It was downtown Anchorage and I wanted
to take a quick bus tour but wanted dinner first. I walked a few blocks,
checking out posted menus. The lady at a souvenir shop told me that “This is
Alaska,” and I had to expect prices to be sky-high. Finally I decided to dine
at the hotel’s restaurant. This vacation was going to be seafood paradise! I’d
begin with a shrimp cocktail. I asked how many shrimp it had. “Two.” For
fifteen dollars? I settled on fish n chips, forgetting that the rule is
NEVER to have fried food when on vacation. I’d had fish n chips in England last
year, and had been surprised at how tasteless both occasions had been. This?
Lovely! Not too oily, either. Good choice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">By the end I decided to
ditch the bus tour. I was five hours ahead of myself, and it was the middle of
the night back home though the sun was still up in AK. Went to bed, got a
HORRIBLE cramp in my left foot! OMG BLOOD CLOT!!!! After walking around a few
minutes it went away. There was no swelling. I was still breathing. Okay, back
to bed. Got up to enjoy the nice buffet downstairs. (Btw, Alaskans pronounce it
like they’re about to waste away in Margaritaville. I heard people from three
different regions pronounce it that way.) We were instructed NOT to use the
fancy luggage tags the cruise line had told us to use, and that we wouldn’t be using
the boarding pass that the cruise line had told us was absolutely necessary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From here we got on one of
those trains with the view dome. What a great view! The very middle of
Alaska is rather flat and humdrum (a lot comes from the ’64 quake, which had
ocean water overrunning large flats and petrifying the trees), but the rest…!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was one canyon with
a loooong bridge – no sides – that made a lot of folks woozy. No, I didn’t
look down. And then there were mountains, mountains, and forests! Occasionally
there’d be a town or road crossing. We pulled into Denali and got on buses that
took us to the lodging resort Holland-America owns. Princess’s is right next
door. Each little resort had shuttle buses to take us to our cabins.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like I’d discovered in
Yellowstone a few years ago, the more snow-bound parks like to celebrate
Christmas early, since their employees likely won’t be around during that
season. Whereas Yellowstone just takes August 25 to do this, Holland-America at Denali was on
Christmas time all week. They’d be closing the next week, shuttering their
properties and draining the plumbing to get ready for winter. All employees at the H-A</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> site were wearing elf caps and Xmas was on the muzak. I wanted to explore, but with
all my outings I never had the chance to try the entertainment venues or
restaurants. Across the highway was the “civilian” tourist stuff with more
restaurants, souvenirs, etc etc.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1mwE-I1GMXwaJCMo2h-eDIrTfwk9n_A4KwmvWQPUxS_NQv20Au-3ipP2nDuwOpYojh4b672T_m0yPTDQAtllSj26ZXo8IHXwKHqXpG8EzlxL1rM3dhyphenhyphenWSAmWuhwxsvBXKTQwyenDrSI/s1600/mr+iditarod.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="297" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1mwE-I1GMXwaJCMo2h-eDIrTfwk9n_A4KwmvWQPUxS_NQv20Au-3ipP2nDuwOpYojh4b672T_m0yPTDQAtllSj26ZXo8IHXwKHqXpG8EzlxL1rM3dhyphenhyphenWSAmWuhwxsvBXKTQwyenDrSI/s320/mr+iditarod.JPG" width="171" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff King</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As soon as I got to my
room it was time to leave again for the “Husky Homestead Tour.” THIS IS A
MUST-SEE! It was a short ride to the summer digs of Jeff King, four-time
Iditarod winner. (He’s been in the race over 27 times.) I was alarmed that the
dogs were all chained up next to their individual houses, but his staff assured
us that he consistently wins humanitarian awards for care of his dogs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9DUGRt6TWV8lPkj4u4XJTEM_0LYBEWPTK1QFJr-JUG3AlxQWqaakt-JOO1JAGehTO_8mseMahPpW5G3KC9lINM6A2SzVvrheADkwxsRn_g7pwMVfBZ9DXTW-PosRX6OzM-Bk2cw-7zI/s1600/puppy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1057" data-original-width="792" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9DUGRt6TWV8lPkj4u4XJTEM_0LYBEWPTK1QFJr-JUG3AlxQWqaakt-JOO1JAGehTO_8mseMahPpW5G3KC9lINM6A2SzVvrheADkwxsRn_g7pwMVfBZ9DXTW-PosRX6OzM-Bk2cw-7zI/s320/puppy.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You get to meet and hold
all the puppies. Puppies!!! The staff takes pictures of you holding the sweet
little things, and of course you can buy the pics. King’s daughters name all
his dogs. Each year they have a new theme: money denominations, card suits, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">MASH</i>
characters, paired words, trees, etc.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJuZKC_yGEEtyFmuJRF0zuOpRRnXc3Q3l1x9zgDjN7vuORDnS8ktdre5O4LUgRK5yBC3pNlh3J9d_9DefDiOqEybNXL4eIGrJtz-5AahoJuHUMyu4g7CM-r8UsDDJ-zTfi_NBCwhOivA/s1600/wheel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJuZKC_yGEEtyFmuJRF0zuOpRRnXc3Q3l1x9zgDjN7vuORDnS8ktdre5O4LUgRK5yBC3pNlh3J9d_9DefDiOqEybNXL4eIGrJtz-5AahoJuHUMyu4g7CM-r8UsDDJ-zTfi_NBCwhOivA/s320/wheel.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The puppies and older dogs
have solid “hamster wheels” that they can run in. The dogs are clearly excited
to be running. They watch when the various teams go out. I think all the adult
dogs get to go out with a team once a day. The staff were taking an ATV and
hooking it up to a team of dogs, then going off on various back roads. Once they
loaded them all onto a fifty-foot treadmill and showed us what they can do!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHqGgXbxKY3lFipvVY4z96GWzRkvOkahYCVYHBYV8I2r7IgRegYqWiaDsPDEoRsZvzVhv3M0lBTYsjE1xkei-Uq2F-j-rArhncpFYxyNoBZhyTQ5-23j2Frl4xyTgB-IvCklKF_kdPN3Q/s1600/treadmill.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHqGgXbxKY3lFipvVY4z96GWzRkvOkahYCVYHBYV8I2r7IgRegYqWiaDsPDEoRsZvzVhv3M0lBTYsjE1xkei-Uq2F-j-rArhncpFYxyNoBZhyTQ5-23j2Frl4xyTgB-IvCklKF_kdPN3Q/s320/treadmill.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The treadmill!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then it was inside, where
we learned about the Iditarod. I was pleased at the emphasis they put on women
being a part of it, and was surprised at how many times a woman had won.
They’re expecting a woman to win this year, because she’s come in second for
the past few years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktg27-RPOPfmiVcqby7BC09uDRjbcXoyMhwlQZjfkWIIZFHK4aVLCk8ThisBYhhkx3EaQOYyDgAsVY7XEK_vqh80lz5OikqRckTekN7zo_LdG_XKCCnoEK2y_BNNOiHmwVMUvYLzfBww/s1600/sled.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="792" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktg27-RPOPfmiVcqby7BC09uDRjbcXoyMhwlQZjfkWIIZFHK4aVLCk8ThisBYhhkx3EaQOYyDgAsVY7XEK_vqh80lz5OikqRckTekN7zo_LdG_XKCCnoEK2y_BNNOiHmwVMUvYLzfBww/s320/sled.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They showed us how they
dress for the dog race. (“There’s no bad weather in Alaska, just bad clothes.”)
Jeff’s sleds are different than others. He has a seat just behind the standing
position, with a small storage area behind that to balance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Any dog that crosses the
finish line MUST have started with the rest. This is why the dog teams are so
very large when they begin. An ideal team consists of 9 dogs. After that, you
don’t get any increase in efficiency. But things happen during the race.
The human is there to, above all else, care for the dogs. They clean and
massage the dogs’ feet at every stop. (I want to say the schedule is 4 hours on
the trail; 4 hours sleeping.) They feed the dogs (10,000+ calories a day per
dog) and gather new food from places along the trail where their support team
has hauled in supplies. Only the driver and the official race vet are allowed
to touch the dogs. It’s only after the dogs are tended that the driver gets to
sleep. And oh yeah, pretty huskies don’t participate in dog racing. They’re for
“heavy lifting and Disney movies.” Dog racing is done by mutts who are lean,
runners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Though the race lasts for days, it's sometimes come down to a matter of seconds to determine the winner. It’s all terrifically fascinating! I’ll be watching the
Iditarod this winter for sure!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Got back to my room only
to discover that my room key had de-magnetized. I had to troop to the
shuttle stop with my jet lag in full gear, go up to the main office, get chewed
out for putting my key next to my phone (it wasn’t), and go back to the room,
where the key indeed worked and I collapsed.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5KlYwYoTXsaYU7SookCbV6d78DNqyMqwMoR6uybmN-FJvz6fD6Xb8KaX1DUo_gDWQgreac15b7Nlwd3XOVcqpe5nhAE9TVhia2RaxjMelyPG1X-B_5ZYkxUKgmK5ioQALAlpEfmMhxg/s1600/sheep.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5KlYwYoTXsaYU7SookCbV6d78DNqyMqwMoR6uybmN-FJvz6fD6Xb8KaX1DUo_gDWQgreac15b7Nlwd3XOVcqpe5nhAE9TVhia2RaxjMelyPG1X-B_5ZYkxUKgmK5ioQALAlpEfmMhxg/s320/sheep.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dall sheep</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was not looking forward
to the next tour. It wasn't an extra; it was included in our cruise package. Most people (like me) were surprised to find it on our schedule, especially when we discovered how long it was and that the bus was not one of those sleek touring buses with comfy seats and, you know, a toilet in the back. I’d ordered a box lunch the day before, and it was waiting
for me when we took off for the 7-hour+ bus tour of Denali Park. Our bus was a
little better than a schoolbus. Our driver/guide was terrific. She’d been working
in the park some 19 years and was looking forward to winter, when she leads
one of the three dog sled teams that patrol the park daily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She liked pulling our
legs. She told us what to expect on this 7- to 8-hour tour. Blah blah blah. And on
this 7- to 9-hour tour… Seven- to twelve-hour tour…. Finally it was 7- to 72-hour
tour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.13333334028720856px;">There</span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> was a </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.13333334028720856px;">shorter</span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> version of the tour and our guide pointed out their turnaround point. It was only a few miles in. Don't go on that one!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Did you know the
difference between reindeer and caribou? Reindeer can fly. Otherwise, they’re
the same. I was never sure about the difference between black bears, grizzlies,
and Kodiaks. Some guides told us they were the same, with the identical scientific name, and others said there was a
difference, but their territories were different; they lived in isolated parts
of Alaska. Around Haines, I think, the guide told us that black bears stay up
higher in the mountains and don’t often come down for fish. They let the larger grizzlies have the lower elevations and the rivers. Kodiaks, the largest of all, are only found on
Kodiak Island. I dunno. Guess I could look it up, but "bear" is good enough for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our guide could also whip our
bus around a corner, sheer cliffs under our outer tires, while scanning the
landscape for wildlife. Eeek! She was DETERMINED that we’d see Denali – the
highest mountain in North America, visible from far, far-off Anchorage on a clear
day – as much as possible. It was rare to do so, she told us. We kept seeing
peeks of it through the mountains, brilliantly spotlit by the morning sun. At each stop she’d hurry us. By the time we
got to the turnaround point, about 40 miles from the mountain, clouds had moved in. We could see the north peak
and the south peak, but not at the same time. Still that put us in the 30%
category, maybe better. Only 1% of people at that point have seen the mountain
in its entirety.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhDFNT-4srjkn6BGS70N4LpRUp4MdsIsi13IcVagxJ35qf5oXD_B9tPZELqCCoaU0oXCjjpdd2C1NxKd5GtY1SD4x8-olD7U9wLa974DWe-eeRzOEOoYQV54uW1PdvPnpNO0RV6eZs7Zk/s1600/denali.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhDFNT-4srjkn6BGS70N4LpRUp4MdsIsi13IcVagxJ35qf5oXD_B9tPZELqCCoaU0oXCjjpdd2C1NxKd5GtY1SD4x8-olD7U9wLa974DWe-eeRzOEOoYQV54uW1PdvPnpNO0RV6eZs7Zk/s320/denali.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denali, about 80 miles away, clear as a bell.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowqB1B9G6_IBx5diaVo-3E5CTu3rjAkZopNzCad1S8ukmxaCxgi4PoIIKTKe4ZXddn_CWuRwa-vLKt0qU_ybG4JreyDNY5MXO600Ij7_9bf3xIXgBS8bv52MY5YFUDLFHBb_aoH5Wwi8/s1600/clouds+creeping+up.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="1057" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowqB1B9G6_IBx5diaVo-3E5CTu3rjAkZopNzCad1S8ukmxaCxgi4PoIIKTKe4ZXddn_CWuRwa-vLKt0qU_ybG4JreyDNY5MXO600Ij7_9bf3xIXgBS8bv52MY5YFUDLFHBb_aoH5Wwi8/s320/clouds+creeping+up.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next stop: Uh oh. Condensation is beginning to form around the base.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMV5CqPRxU4PDoooRpewS61AMXEuQiVrLK7wmoLzi7eEiIXKOezONApD_SLZ-fm2iE-_tMv5ELbaT6gW6xr4TDMBufb9-9-byUjdg0HDULIKsM5voqWBX9Sd3EY7eGc7jasjEWaB-OzI/s1600/40+miles+away.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMV5CqPRxU4PDoooRpewS61AMXEuQiVrLK7wmoLzi7eEiIXKOezONApD_SLZ-fm2iE-_tMv5ELbaT6gW6xr4TDMBufb9-9-byUjdg0HDULIKsM5voqWBX9Sd3EY7eGc7jasjEWaB-OzI/s320/40+miles+away.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Closest approach: 40 miles away.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Unlike Yellowstone, Denali
Park is a wilderness park. That means that if any ranger runs into an injured
animal, they let it lie. There's no interference. Denali never banished wolves, and thus never had to reintroduce
them, unlike Yellowstone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Along the 95-mile dirt
road, our driver told us how most of the park is sub-Arctic desert. It has a
lot of foliage because the permafrost keeps the water close to the surface. It
gets about 10 inches of rain per year, and the snow is a light, blowing type.
The Alaska Range blocks most of the moisture coming in from the Pacific. The temperate
rain forest of Alaska’s coasts can get 300 in/year. In the next 30 years it’s
estimated that the coverage of permafrost in Denali will go from 50% to 5%. The
sub-Arctic desert will REALLY look like a desert then. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She used the phrase “down
in Canada,” something I’d never heard before. The place is a pristine
wilderness. We saw grizzly bears (little dots in that river down there) (thank
goodness I’d bought binoculars for the trip, although our driver had a video
scope she used to show us detail on two screens), Dall sheep (the reason Denali
was made into a park in the first place, to preserve them), fat squirrels ready for winter, and golden eagles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Over 600,000 people visit
Denali each year. There were certainly lots of buses parked around the pit
toilets. So fun to pass another bus on the narrow, cliff-side road! Accck! And
then someone would spot a bear (the driver signal to other drivers is to make a
claw motion out their window) and everyone stops to look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Since this wasn’t
Yellowstone, our driver warned us that we had to be QUIET if we saw nearby
wildlife. They didn’t want it to get used to humans. If we made too much noise,
she’d start the bus and continue on. So when a GIGANTIC bull moose breaks out
of the brush right next to us and everyone goes, “AWP!” out of surprise she
whispered at very high volume for us to be quiet!!! The big man behind me kept
braying, “MOOSE! MOOOOOSE!” but he FINALLY quieted down and we stuck around to
look at two females across the road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgSD_678ysIXz1H_eoNPjTmSQP0IDWrXCkgjVcMK7GEcZd2rmWqksnMHSfR9kcp1GneA1Zy0olxXTfZ672Y87m1l4qQd9nLyaApXewAo7Xz7skiZ8l9R9-9aQyGyjEDBTUM26bbCDdt0/s1600/mountains.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgSD_678ysIXz1H_eoNPjTmSQP0IDWrXCkgjVcMK7GEcZd2rmWqksnMHSfR9kcp1GneA1Zy0olxXTfZ672Y87m1l4qQd9nLyaApXewAo7Xz7skiZ8l9R9-9aQyGyjEDBTUM26bbCDdt0/s320/mountains.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Termination dust": They'd just had the first light snow the week before.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was there to look at the
landscape. There were so many different kinds! It switched over to the desert version about ten miles or so from the park entrance. Before that, it's a regular mountain forest. And I discovered that the reason
why so much of Alaska’s water is teal-colored is because of all the glacial
sediment. It’s supposed to be quite gritty to touch. We were warned not to try
to drink it. Even if it is coming off the mountains, there was an animal – I
forget, but it was a smaller type – that carried some kind of dire disease that
was in most of the water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You can get off
the bus at any point and hike around as much as you want. Every so often a
green bus, which runs the ENTIRE length of the road (we only did 95 miles of it
and back; I think the entire road is something like 120 miles), will stop for you when you want to return. You can go off for an hour, for a day, for a week... They don't keep track of you. There is NO cell service. There are sudden
blizzards in July, mudslides, blown tires, rock falls… Our guide told us how once she
didn’t get back for three days. The park flew her passengers out, but she
had to wait for the road to be cleared and her equipment to be fixed.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But
we got back all right and congratulated ourselves for powering through!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTZFTvZOzH5gsQI79odWE5ClG6czCkbGOF60UHtqgOh_ieJnbsYa8oCeX7EbK3HFQbKvjMK79XDbtyNWRhAv5mGDxBEebMHRUUz3AFvLnIS_qXv0J1Bos_YLvaiW-8Ze0vQB5U-VlZ5rM/s1600/landscape+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTZFTvZOzH5gsQI79odWE5ClG6czCkbGOF60UHtqgOh_ieJnbsYa8oCeX7EbK3HFQbKvjMK79XDbtyNWRhAv5mGDxBEebMHRUUz3AFvLnIS_qXv0J1Bos_YLvaiW-8Ze0vQB5U-VlZ5rM/s320/landscape+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj29IsGCcWXmE-q1hIAFgVwLN4ub8rfKtykLbowCsf1vM_Gr20u3kSpmZxixYy9DdVYCrinqS5hlerB2UTyJMbJ5ssu3hhqGrWQQ3Rdblu3A4x8mbpOfEizsz3DDUe66OFpBOBWkH2rcz8/s1600/three+moose.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="1057" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj29IsGCcWXmE-q1hIAFgVwLN4ub8rfKtykLbowCsf1vM_Gr20u3kSpmZxixYy9DdVYCrinqS5hlerB2UTyJMbJ5ssu3hhqGrWQQ3Rdblu3A4x8mbpOfEizsz3DDUe66OFpBOBWkH2rcz8/s320/three+moose.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three moose were taking baths in the rain on the way to our evening event.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That night I had
a “Covered Wagon Adventure with Backcountry [Gourmet] Dining.” I paid $90 for
it. I wuz robbed! The wagons were roughly home-constructed and didn’t look
right from a distance, much more from inside. They were covered with sickly
plastic, and were cold and wet as hell. The horses were unhappy to be there.
The ride to the dining site took over a half-hour of misery. Our guide was
Jamaican, and clearly had only received the most rudimentary of training in how
to conduct an “Alaskan adventure.” He told us what kinds of trees we were
passing through, and that was it for him. On the way back, he sang some
Jamaican songs, one sad, one happy, one I don’t know, but they all sounded
alike and I couldn’t understand him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJad8qHw1g2Y9OmGtzrxktTBRvG16WMobiQX7YhGkzCBkZrRlenmXEDmqgMiMcSLZLw4b85QnpNjHK8h4Bcwc_wPv0Cl8msR_0BRz839bjdGoa1MM0cvlPswUVtZAIXgTjfY_SPHkQx38/s1600/covered+wagon.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="964" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJad8qHw1g2Y9OmGtzrxktTBRvG16WMobiQX7YhGkzCBkZrRlenmXEDmqgMiMcSLZLw4b85QnpNjHK8h4Bcwc_wPv0Cl8msR_0BRz839bjdGoa1MM0cvlPswUVtZAIXgTjfY_SPHkQx38/s320/covered+wagon.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I asked him to
tell us about how Alaskan pioneers lived. That was what all this was about,
right? He didn’t know anything about that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We got to the
venue, which was a planed log cabin, two-room deal. You know, it didn’t look
like logs; the lumber was smooth and straight, very Home Depot-ish. There were
no bathrooms, only portalets. There was water and horse ick all over every
pathway, and it looked like even if it hadn’t been pouring rain everything would
have been wet. Inside, someone had sloshed water all over the floor, not
bothering to clean it up or set out warning signs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We were quickly
ushered into the larger room, where extremely uncomfortable picnic tables had
been installed. The seats didn't protrude enough to find your butt, so you balanced on your thighs instead. We were the last group in. Everyone else was in the middle of
their dinner. We’d asked what was being served (we passed the grill on the way
in) and were told with a shrug by the Jamaican guy who’d worked there all summer as
guide and waiter that he had no idea, but there was always corn on the cob.
There was not corn on the cob. But there was a lot of food. It just wasn’t
seasoned at all. Oh, the slaw, potato salad, and chili were okay, but
everything else – ugh. And it kept coming. People got full and the crew came in
with more platters. There was no menu posted to tell us what to expect. Salad
was served. Ten minutes later, the salad dressing arrived. We were freezing;
there was no heat. The ride back was another long, cold, wet mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The only
interesting thing were the Chinese/Chinese-American people. There was a woman
and her husband, both from New Jersey. They had JUST HAPPENED to run into her
sister and her husband, visiting from China!!! that day!!! Neither couple had
any idea the other would be there. They just happened to look across the lodge
and – hey! Sis! They had both booked this event.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What
are the odds? They were having a swell time just being together. It was so
sweet. The next day they'd separate to go to their different cruises.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The next morning
our luggage was supposed to be out at something like 6 AM. Mine was out in time, and by the time I left to catch the shuttle to
the main lodge and the bus to the coast, it had been picked up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I met two other ladies waiting for the
shuttle—it was running VERY late--and pointed out the last luggage truck. “But
luggage isn’t supposed to be out until 8:30,” they told me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"What time does your bus leave?" I asked them. "Uh, 8:30." They looked at each other. Then they double-checked
their schedules. Ack! They ran back to grab their luggage and took it with them
to the lodge. Luckily, they were able to get it on the bus we were taking to
Seward to catch the cruise. There were about, oh, five or six, maybe more,
buses loading up. I was on the first heading out of Denali.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If I were to
visit again, I’d certainly skip that awful wagon ride and maybe try something
like rafting instead. Maybe I’d just stay at the lodge and enjoy their
entertainment. I’d force myself to get up around 2 AM to see the Northern
Lights if it weren’t cloudy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Next: The trip
south and the cruise ship. Storms! Flu! Glaciers!</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-31086849114168055392017-06-07T08:37:00.000-04:002017-06-23T18:48:59.933-04:00Wonder Woman: the Movie<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp8Ig30OwKXeXu_yHb25PvWs3iphuhUJKTBg2gtU9_SwQTMJi7S2LNZ4_rzzH9FNCSmjOxCGda2AQ-gw2SWEcROd_l7gNxpu1cuGmpxAX90yjSxW4SSUdArj2RlRazDNgt9u17MpfjGI0/s1600/WW+movie+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp8Ig30OwKXeXu_yHb25PvWs3iphuhUJKTBg2gtU9_SwQTMJi7S2LNZ4_rzzH9FNCSmjOxCGda2AQ-gw2SWEcROd_l7gNxpu1cuGmpxAX90yjSxW4SSUdArj2RlRazDNgt9u17MpfjGI0/s400/WW+movie+pic.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wonder Woman and her Howling Commandos:<br />
Saïd Taghmadui as Sameer, Chris Pine as Steve Trevor, Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman, Eugene Brave Rock as the Chief, and Ewen Bremner as Charlie. (Clay Enos / Warner Bros. Entertainment)</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Needless to say, SPOILERS.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It’s about time Wondie got her own movie! Good for her: it broke some gender-related records, and lots and lots of people have said it was the BEST MOVIE EVAH! People stop me all the time to ask or even gush about the movie. Wondie is Queen of the Univerrrrrse! (I prefer to think of her as King of the Univerrrrrse! because of the reasons Patricia C. Wrede laid out so well in <i>Dealing with Dragons</i>: there is a conceptual difference people make between “queen” and “king,” and if you want to include respect, power, competence, etc, into a title, the word is “king.” Thus her book has a female king of dragons.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">DC has a terrible record for its modern movies. The Batman ones I can’t even watch (then again, I’ve never been a Bats fan.) The Superman movies portrayed a character I found hard to identify as Supes. It was all about power and special effects and, well, the need to be selfish. Superman = selfish? No. Not ever. As for BvS… You’re kidding, right? Oh man, I’d bet that in this movie they’d change Hippolyta’s name to “Martha.” Hippomartha = “Martha of the horse.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The post-2010 WW comics have been, with some delightful exceptions, AWFUL. I cannot recognize Wonder Woman in them. They reek of patriarchal themes, something Wondie should NEVER allow. (It’s fine for other heroines. They operate in a patriarchal society, grew up there, have to smile and bear the worst which brings its own problems and ways of dealing with things, but we’re talking WONDER WOMAN, who arrives with a Different Idea.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let me just state right here that I LOVED 85% of this movie! Love, love, love. It was only when they got completely off-course with the Wondie mythos or with feminism, or brought in Undefined Magic, that they lost me. Completely. Needless to say, this review tends to linger on those defects instead of the good points. Sorry about that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I tried to keep an open mind even as the first reviews were reported to be outstanding. My hopes began to rise but I tamped them down. If I went in neutrally, if the movie were good I’d be on a high for days, maybe years. Fingers crossed, though previews (and that awful BvS) showed Wondie wearing a Xena-esque outfit — no bright colors, no spangles — and wielding a sword and shield, the latter of which seemed to mirror that of Capt. America.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The real Wondie doesn’t use a sword and shield unless she’s in some kind of S&S storyline. Swords are for maiming and killing. Wonder Woman is not about maiming and killing. Hers is a story of nurturing, with fighting kept only for when all other solutions have been exhausted.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh well, previews can often be misleading, so I got my popcorn and took my seat. Eventually ten other people filed in. (At least two had brought their cells, which they utilized during the movie. One couple decided that they’d have a loud discussion at several points, which meant that I might have missed some plot explanations. Why don’t people have respect for others? [points at offenders] Ares: kill!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had problems with a slice at the beginning and from the climax onward. The climax also brought questions about that beginning, now that we could put things in context. Bear with me because I’ll crawl through all the holes that appeared upon viewing and looking back when that climax hit, before we get to the Good Part.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Origin Sequence (the hero in the “ordinary world” where the world isn’t all that ordinary) was pretty cool. That little Diana actress did an excellent job, with facial expressions that could portray all kinds of mischief. We’ll be seeing more of her, I’m sure, but just not in WW movies. (Fans will clamor for her to play Hippolyta in Wonder Woman XXII.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’d have liked to have seen the “why” of the Amazons more, seen them helping each other instead of having endless war training. I wanted to see that the core of WW was founded on kindness, wisdom, maybe even some cultural growth (yin qualities) through the thousands of years they’ve been there, and not merely martial skills (yang qualities) which are outdated before the second reel begins. We saw that Amazons could outdo men at stereotypical male jobs, but where were the female ones? Why couldn’t they celebrate traditional female roles in society and expound upon them? Why couldn’t we see the Amazons caring for each other, building their community, engaging in the arts, expanding their technology, farming and herding, etc etc? Why didn’t Diana know what holding hands meant?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The goal of women is NOT to become men with boobs. The goal is to find a balance of yin and yang that pleases each individual. The goal is to celebrate each quality.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A quick background shot of Amazons working together to make a beautiful sculpture, perhaps with laser tools (or better), and of flying platforms, people hugging… Even on the practice field, people could have helped others after a violent clash, hugged, held hands… I didn’t notice such, not to serious extent. Did you? Why is the feminine side of women being shoved aside?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Amazons = Diana’s foundation. Let us see what the Amazons are, and we’ll know what Diana is as well. She is their mirror, though she still has a lot to learn.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But it’s a grim world out there, full of wars and war videogames. The only way to get the audience to respect the Amazons seems to be by making them primarily warriors. (What was their true excuse for devoting themselves almost exclusively to island defense for thousands of years?) We did get an extensive Training sequence, which was exciting indeed (unless you realize that people need to learn other things besides war). (I always worried about Harry Potter not taking British history courses or spelling, math, or philosophy.) However. I am no fan of speed ramping during action sequences. In my opinion it becomes more a “Hey! Look what we can do!” (<b>HLWWCD</b>) gimmick akin to lens flares and other substitutes for dangling jingling keys in front of children’s faces to keep them mesmerized. In this movie speed ramping was a constant element as was Shaky Camera (which means I can’t tell what’s going on). Yawn.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">During these training sequences we not only had speed ramping, but weird, exaggerated action in which our Amazons didn’t merely do sword play, but leapt to do it, a la Brad Pitt’s once-unique Achilles <i>(swoon)</i> action in <i>Troy</i>. They not only leapt, but twirled and somersaulted before chopping away with their sword or letting off multiple arrows at once. (Why wasn’t there MORE BLOOD?) This after they’ve jumped off towering cliffs, somersaulting the entire time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Puh-lease. Didn’t early movie rumors say that the movie Amazons would be Kryptonians? This made it seem like someone had held on to that idea.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So that was a bit of a sour note, but what had come before made it worse: the history of the Amazons given to young Diana. It seems that Ares had KILLED OFF ALL THE GODS except Zeus, and that Zeus eventually died from his hands. This was after Zeus created both humans and Amazons.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All hail Zeus.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Does “all the gods” include just the Olympian Twelve, or every last mystical being in the Greek mythological realm? Are the Titans etc still around? How about Asgardians? The Shinto gods? The gods of Mars? Etc?)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There is NO version of Greek myth I can think of that has Zeus creating mankind. Many people back then, who had no access to libraries or Wiki, thought that humans originated from the earth, just as plants did. Eventually they became so evil that Zeus sent a great flood, from which only Pyrrha and her husband Deucalion were saved. They threw bones over their shoulders, from which grew a new race of men, which then populated the earth.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">OR Hesiod’s poetry records that Prometheus sculpted the first man and Athena gave him life. Prometheus and his brother gave man all kinds of gifts (including fire), and Zeus didn’t like that. He didn’t like man in general. So he ordered Hephaestus to make what would be the first woman: Pandora. <a href="http://ancient-greece.org/culture/mythology/origins-of-man.html"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 255); color: blue;">http://ancient-greece.org/culture/mythology/origins-of-man.html</span></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Note: in SvB Luthor cites the Prometheus origin with Diana listening in the audience. She doesn’t correct or even raise a dismissive eyebrow.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When this movie sets up Zeus as not only the creator of mankind and the Amazons, then presents a War in Heaven/Olympus, from which only Zeus and the Bad God (Ares) remain, they are presenting a Christian view of the universe, not a Greek mythology one. Zeus = Yahweh (though he eventually died) and Ares = Satan. That leaves Diana to be…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pardon me, I just lost my lunch.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Besides, I thought DC set up Superman to be New Jesus back in 1978 with the Chris Reeve Superman movie. I HATED that, you just know it. Superman might, possibly MIGHT be New Moses, but on the whole his dad (not his mom. He might as well not have had a mother) (which is funny, because in this movie as well as the nu52 and on, Diana might as well not have had a mother either) sent him to Earth because, duh, their world was exploding and this way the kid would live. There was no mission for Kal other than survival.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Gah. Writers who try to get all Biblical with their themes. Ugh. Ptui.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Why take the gods away from Wonder Woman? GREEK GODS ARE A HUGE PART OF THE FUN OF THE MYTHOS! Remember “fun”? In the comics we see Diana invoking them: “Great Hera!” “Athena guide my aim!” etc. We did hear that Hestia had created the Magic Lasso (no Gaea or Hephaestus here), but that was a side point.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">WONDER WOMAN SHOULD HAVE GODS IN HER STORY.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And by that I DON’T (!!!!!! x infinity) mean that Diana should be a god!!! (x infinity)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I thought Wonder Woman was an all-female thing. One of the basics of her mythos is that she and her people had nothing to do with male anything.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">THAT’S THE ENTIRE POINT.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Besides, if Zeus died thousands of years before but had fathered Diana, how was she in her twenties now? She is mentally QUITE young, so don’t tell me she’s thousands of years old, but ageless. Do we yet have an Osiris-kind of dead penis story to incorporate into Diana’s origin?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If the Amazons were immortal and youthful, why did so many have wrinkles? (I am all for using older actresses, but NOT in roles where they are supposed to be eternally youthful! I have the same complaint about Ares later.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I didn’t understand why the Amazons spoke all languages ever. What was that about? Did I miss something? Why would this… I… What… ??? Uh…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If the sword were fake, why was it on display? How did they know what size to make Diana’s costume/armor? Why didn’t Diana say anything when an Amazon told her she wasn’t an Amazon? If someone is born with the purpose of killing a god, why doesn’t anyone tell her so she’s prepared not only physically but mentally? Why doesn’t Diana need a “training herself” sequence when she discovers her god powers? Oh, that’s right. Instant powers = instant expertise. It’s the stereotypical Millennial Thought Process at work. You don’t have to work to achieve your goals; they are handed to you on a silver platter. (cf: Capt. Kirk of <i>nuStar Trek.</i>)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I ground my teeth and let the first-reel Zeus origin pass. If they left it at this, though the setup made no sense in addition to being blatantly patriarchal, I could stomach it. Maybe.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Good thing that I did, for from that point on, THE MOVIE WAS TERRIFIC!!! (x a large number) Chris Pine drove all thoughts of faux Capt. Kirk (ptui on <i>nuTrek</i>!) from my mind. The script gave him a wide range to act, and he came through with flying colors. Oscar-worthy, even. Gal Gadot received less of a spectrum of emotions to sort through (she’ll have more movies in which to explore them), but the ones she had to work with, she worked fabulously. She does a great “determined” and “confused,” and flexes/poses in a superheroic way very well indeed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The movie gets SUPER-GIANT BONUS POINTS for the Diana/Steve relationship. Over the decades, I have been driven mad by WW fans who just loooove that Diana set eyes on Steve for the first time and BOOM! that’s why she chose to become Wonder Woman and move to the Outside World. Squee!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Ugh. What a concept, that women are entirely ruled by their emotions. This movie had Diana being curious about Steve as a representative of Man and then as a person. They learn to respect each other, then like each other, then become comrades. And then lovers. But Diana is still Diana and not Steve’s love slave. (And she’d better not have gotten pregnant from that one night!) On the other side of the coin, Steve’s reaction to Diana was everything we could ask from a 21</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><sup>st</sup></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> century man, even though the story was set 100 years earlier. <a href="https://www.themarysue.com/the-steve-trevor-factor-what-equality-can-look-like/"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 255); color: blue;">Theresa Jusino over at the Mary Sue</span></a> gave an extraordinary review of the movie relationship. Bravo!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I didn’t understand how people could just fall asleep on a sailboat (no one steers or watches out in a war venue?) from the shores of Themyscira and then wake up in London. ??? I saw someone theorize that Steve’s plane had ditched in the English Channel, where Themyscira was. That’s a stretch. It needed to be explained. A simple: “We’ve been out here for days. England at last!” would have sufficed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ah, but London! I LOVED the costumes! I LOVED the sets! Heart, heart, heart! And Etta!!!! This movie had much too little Etta. Many people have pointed out that almost all her scenes were represented in the trailers. Someone somewhere realized this gem of a part, but no one in the actual movie seemed to. More Etta! More Etta! Shout it with me! Woo woo! And there was a quick mention of women’s suffrage, which I hope the next movie will address.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The use of the Lasso was pretty great. I mean, it was never meant to be used as an offensive weapon but rather as a tool, so I winced when she used it to whip people. Darn you, Greg Rucka, for starting that business anyway. But as an effect it was super cool, all glowy and animated. I also liked the way the TV pilot/movie of a few years ago used it. There it had a “snap” sometimes, which added to its ambiance of power.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had fully expected for WW not to have a sense of humor. You know, feminists don't. :-( But here she was, cracking a smile and even a joke on occasion. Hurray!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dr. Poison’s facial mask/makeup was chilling. Kudos to the designer who made a very different look from the comics — a far superior one. It left enough of her face there to be startling. I didn’t understand why she didn’t get more airtime than the other villains. She deserved it. Creeeepy!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The “super energy” potion was a solid red herring that tied well into Poison’s MO, especially when the real bad guy turned out to be sweet, doomed Prof. Lupin. Wah! I hated that he had to die. Professor Lupin, your kid turned out just fine! Oh, but now he was Ares, a god who, because he was a god, could do ANYTHING. (Yawn.) (Except be young. Why is that? A makeup change at the Reveal would have solved this.) This is called Undefined Magic, and it is (imho) one of the all-time laziest ways to write. A MAJOR pet peeve of mine. Magic should be defined as any other element in a plot is, so the reader/watcher can “play along,” knowing the rules.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Undefined Magic has no rules. Undefined magic in modern movies means: time to blow the SFX budget! <b>HLWWCD!</b> Dazzle the audience so they don’t have time to think that it all makes no sense! Boo! Or worse: Zzz.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dr. Strange can pull it off because (1) undefined magic is his ENTIRE thing, and (2) even he has a rule or two, and (3) his movie SFX were unique and uber-cool. Even so, I’ve never been a fan. Undefined magic, you know. And Clea was always such a wimp.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But I’ve gotten ahead of myself. We had cute little “playing with the concept” Act II sequences in London, and then the “gathering of the allies,” though they looked more like the Howling Commandos. This movie had been set in WWI instead of WWII I thought to minimize resemblances to Captain America. Now here we were with a mix of ethnic types — not terribly stereotyped, thank goodness, but on the brink — with whom to form our little troupe. I was very disappointed that Etta didn’t tag along.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If I weren’t happily engrossed in all the goodness this movie offered, I might be able to parse it more and add a few dozen more pages to this review, but la la la, I was too busy enjoying.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was that magnificent Trenches Scene that everyone loves and for good reason, as Wondie steps out in her Xena costume for the first time, to inspire others to follow. She was determined in a very yin way but through yang actions, to save the helpless and ignite the courage and ethics of the men around her. This is what Wonder Woman is about! The Empowerer. Yes! <b>HLWWCD</b>, but I could overlook that because of the emotional impact of the situation at hand.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">OMG, that blue dress. If they’d just had a half hour of Gal walking around in that dress, I would have been satisfied that my money had been well-spent. It was stunning! Give the designer an Oscar, hands down.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Action sequences, action sequences, falling in love scene, (tastefully) falling into bed scene, action sequences… and that nice bit between Steve and Dr. Poison at the ball, very nuanced. All excellent stuff. Red herring… By this time, it was a little obvious that Prof. Lupin was Ares. Sword utilized and then destroyed. Big reveal:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Diana is a god.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">NO!!!! I almost stood up and screamed some four-letter words at the screen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">DIANA IS NOT A GOD!!! That goes against every shred of how her character has been constructed. DIANA DOES NOT HAVE A FATHER!!!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">DAMNED PATRIARCHY GOT TO WONDER WOMAN!!!!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">No, no, an infinity of times NO!!!!!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I pretty much withdrew into myself at this point. The movie paled despite its attempts to amaze me with SFX. I mean, the movie HAD ME GOING and then they pulled the rug out from under me AND hit me on the head with a heavy skillet. No respect for me as a viewer or fan. No respect for Wonder Woman.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Damned, damned patriarchy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was no need for anyone’s brain to function now. Bright effects. Computers doing overtime on SFX. Wham! <b>HLWWCD!</b> Crash! Bzzap! Lightning! Diana has immediate and full use of her <i>deus ex machina</i> powers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">MIGHT = RIGHT</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">(This is me retching.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Diana’s lightning is brighter and costs more than Ares’, so he dies. Steve dies (the movie gets some bonus points for this due to Stevie’s putrid history in my eyes, though the movie done him good).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Someone mentioned on teh Webz that the reason Ares was after the Armistice instead of prolonging the war, was because the Armistice was so indecent that it directly led to World War II, which was so much larger than WWI. Okay, I’ll take that even though during the movie I was really wondering about it. A line or two of explanation, please, Mr. Heinberg? While you’re at it, could you please sew up all these plot holes?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So we’re left with Diana staying in Man’s World for 100 years to help make things better. We next see her in the Present Day, where she works in the Louvre in some unnoticed but well-dressed position.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let me get this straight: a GOD determined to HELP HUMANKIND has been with us in the flesh for ONE HUNDRED YEARS and… nothing has changed? Why can’t infinite god Diana snap her fingers and make things right? She could change the hearts of people. If not (and perhaps this movie suggests that’s the one thing a god cannot do), she can certainly snap her fingers and change everything else.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Why hasn’t she?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Why didn’t she just snap her fingers in BvS and solve everything?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Was DC so scared that a woman might outshine their Big Two, that they completely diminished her impact on the world?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">During the course of the ENTIRE movie, no one ever uttered the words “Wonder Woman.” I think this is a part of the disrespect. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">History seems to have forgotten her or never noticed her to begin with. After all, she's just a woman. Less than that: she is merely a tool of the great Father Zeus. All hail Zeus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well. Well. Cut out the origin, give the Amazons more yin qualities so that we can see where Diana gets her heart from and truly salute the female spirit… then completely ignore the climax and all that came after that, and you’ve got a Great Movie.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As it is, I give it an 8.5 out of 10, and that’s being generous because the bad parts were VERY bad, though the good parts were the majority of the movie.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">PS: Diana is NOT a god, nor does she have a father. Period.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-28437823582768187202017-06-01T15:00:00.000-04:002017-06-01T20:24:44.016-04:00Brushing up the blog a bit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Used to be, if I finished one painting a year I considered myself quite accomplished indeed. Well, sort of. After a while I tried and tried to do more painting, but it wasn't until I found that I had acquired a corner wall in a local restaurant all to myself -- a place to hang two paintings, no more, no less -- that I got on the ball. Those paintings had to be changed out every two months--at least.<br />
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Only a few times have I had to use old paintings to fill my slot. Restaurant walls are difficult to come by; I didn't want to lose mine. The market for such is sharp. I was lucky to find my two nails at the Saratoga Grill. I love them, even though they usually fall out a few times as I'm hanging the new work.<br />
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Here's what I just took down today:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRluHx40Kt0GZLaoxhOT0PSTvYg22E7ma_i_UZHxJuwFil4iou8ejSe_BXgDbGqlWv4PATY96aI1lYKlmQBLEzdhMY3XNWNn8ybu7FD0dSdrZ1OwlMEXRjFrhKGr7g78lumxAVDH1DtaA/s1600/Castle+of+the+Highlands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRluHx40Kt0GZLaoxhOT0PSTvYg22E7ma_i_UZHxJuwFil4iou8ejSe_BXgDbGqlWv4PATY96aI1lYKlmQBLEzdhMY3XNWNn8ybu7FD0dSdrZ1OwlMEXRjFrhKGr7g78lumxAVDH1DtaA/s320/Castle+of+the+Highlands.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Castle of the Highlands"<br />
36x24" oil over acrylic<br />
stretched canvas, $850<br />
Ardverikie Castle, Scotland</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdh7T6CoNEeWI2Waji_4K1F1AImWBMIz6E6ca2V87maaMwsIQwn0ArazhaOVjfMnx5i4Nwu8-NN2C4FeQPUH-KD7B3pcyqWKEEpYVXB0v2ZD6QtyLNJI4nBbNFMX5VdcVvF1At9EbBUic/s1600/Red+Roof+in+the+Stow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdh7T6CoNEeWI2Waji_4K1F1AImWBMIz6E6ca2V87maaMwsIQwn0ArazhaOVjfMnx5i4Nwu8-NN2C4FeQPUH-KD7B3pcyqWKEEpYVXB0v2ZD6QtyLNJI4nBbNFMX5VdcVvF1At9EbBUic/s320/Red+Roof+in+the+Stow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">"Red Roof in the Stow"<br />
18x24" oil over acrylic<br />
stretched canvas, $450<br />
Stow-on-the-Wold, England</td></tr>
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And here's what I put up in their place:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjniWMaAlNec1uyZujXzUc0CK9Kg9x3FXNl9E0P_Xoy1yocs5H0BeZf5jeTNKjxJbHn2bSN3hOk3MHuSmmgmb9WVYcxwkchXHy4Ydp_poFziaM11qcTr9SUDmZ0xREzkXxETVK4HtR5xKc/s1600/sheep+may+safely+graze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjniWMaAlNec1uyZujXzUc0CK9Kg9x3FXNl9E0P_Xoy1yocs5H0BeZf5jeTNKjxJbHn2bSN3hOk3MHuSmmgmb9WVYcxwkchXHy4Ydp_poFziaM11qcTr9SUDmZ0xREzkXxETVK4HtR5xKc/s320/sheep+may+safely+graze.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Sheep May Safely Graze"<br />
18x24" oil over acrylic<br />
stretched canvas NFS<br />
about an hour below Edinburgh, Scotland</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcdCN8JN-RJvBnY7KJ_QRIoLaLpGEIQWGU6IP-rOSbPjrLCXKjzoQSJPoVtQ96llzpQj6hKPimoGCmvTLPlno_zuYgejnNPzwfqfkwavQelDcolmfpRQGIln3nWMk5e-HkaWmpK430hgQ/s1600/heavenly+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcdCN8JN-RJvBnY7KJ_QRIoLaLpGEIQWGU6IP-rOSbPjrLCXKjzoQSJPoVtQ96llzpQj6hKPimoGCmvTLPlno_zuYgejnNPzwfqfkwavQelDcolmfpRQGIln3nWMk5e-HkaWmpK430hgQ/s320/heavenly+fire.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Heavenly Fire"<br />
18x24" oil over acrylic<br />
stretched canvas $450<br />
Atlantic Beach, NC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So I've been a bit busy, as these take a full two months of work to produce! But just to make things more difficult on myself (why do I do these things? My guides insist I need to learn to FOCUS), I took a 5-day quick-painting challenge. The goal was to do a 20-minute painting every day for 5 days and make a series. What did I have around the house that a series could be made of? Hmm… And then I took about two hours + working on each painting. I got these done in about two weeksf.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRl8VvVmkHq0hwqGsFTdqz3JM_HAoZlu-1VU8kgWQbYa9ETMqxoaOTC18KDcIc-c7t9u3omra7-HPxlJXNrQIiwwB729K5RwVx0Ivly71cU8RvTij4xOIHjw7nTUBy3IOPIkHHGzWNwWQ/s1600/small+wonder+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRl8VvVmkHq0hwqGsFTdqz3JM_HAoZlu-1VU8kgWQbYa9ETMqxoaOTC18KDcIc-c7t9u3omra7-HPxlJXNrQIiwwB729K5RwVx0Ivly71cU8RvTij4xOIHjw7nTUBy3IOPIkHHGzWNwWQ/s320/small+wonder+1.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Wondie's Watching"<br />
10x8" acrylic on Gessobord<br />
$100</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeJQr94R5TIa4zOxOsJThWHwPhqXLgCj1rtJDK8_bk5xTLG0wNy47-3NaHj8DaSLJ7gk6gqMpGFshu4vHERI9HjRU1d_10l1_2bWhe8gbtzmbU92EXHAuNlkJVa0226-nkj2CeBIWsjA/s1600/small+wonder+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeJQr94R5TIa4zOxOsJThWHwPhqXLgCj1rtJDK8_bk5xTLG0wNy47-3NaHj8DaSLJ7gk6gqMpGFshu4vHERI9HjRU1d_10l1_2bWhe8gbtzmbU92EXHAuNlkJVa0226-nkj2CeBIWsjA/s320/small+wonder+2.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Wise as Athena"<br />
10x8" acrylic on Gessobord<br />
$100</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtOTSTu2tmhwHjxJVw3BY6Eb4rBWchGbGcZ9k-toxUcv4SY7TCSoMIuU7hchW0vjcFcdU6trimpemTEeSnVQgStGDkeB71RY_eJctrddWGXxZ9fRip2oZQh7LMWpB4yKefhrMBHHUwSHA/s1600/small+wonder+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtOTSTu2tmhwHjxJVw3BY6Eb4rBWchGbGcZ9k-toxUcv4SY7TCSoMIuU7hchW0vjcFcdU6trimpemTEeSnVQgStGDkeB71RY_eJctrddWGXxZ9fRip2oZQh7LMWpB4yKefhrMBHHUwSHA/s320/small+wonder+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Three Times the Wonder"<br />
8x10 acrylic on Gessobord<br />
$100</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGLbzcEGTSaHeA-pmC1GnV_ONi8O8aZaDJlzATwe75EDq_ehsbI6eYGKa4KM7lGy92hrhRlRlYEzxNLzeUpk6_f9jyh-kk70ds2TCCDSMy2KVdu7GUDvrR_zysIiVAKMXL0UITxM3I8k/s1600/small+wonder+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGLbzcEGTSaHeA-pmC1GnV_ONi8O8aZaDJlzATwe75EDq_ehsbI6eYGKa4KM7lGy92hrhRlRlYEzxNLzeUpk6_f9jyh-kk70ds2TCCDSMy2KVdu7GUDvrR_zysIiVAKMXL0UITxM3I8k/s320/small+wonder+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Sisters"<br />
8x10 acrylic on Gessobord<br />
$100</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnStyQYgyxTKFLJqaDKO2QwX_Myr3JFvoi5ExY-xLDYkL4WoBJS0mS57lQPmdciRAbskIfoe65Bv5Dzr_BerPkgzvBOsbS56dlGAhgAIpSkywjtZPjLwjPtFrfTKAbX993DFkKMuzPJc/s1600/small+wonder+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnStyQYgyxTKFLJqaDKO2QwX_Myr3JFvoi5ExY-xLDYkL4WoBJS0mS57lQPmdciRAbskIfoe65Bv5Dzr_BerPkgzvBOsbS56dlGAhgAIpSkywjtZPjLwjPtFrfTKAbX993DFkKMuzPJc/s320/small+wonder+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Invisible Visible"<br />
8x10 acrylic on Gessobord<br />
$100</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
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<div>
I hope you like them! I hope you want to BUY them! If you do, contact me. If you like them but want something a little more inexpensive, try a print instead. Or a mug. Or even a shower curtain. Fine Art America offers all these. You can find them <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/artists/carol+strickland">here.</a><br />
<br />
So now you think I'll run from the computer to paint since I've created such a good habit? Heck, no! I have a book to finish! I'll do a little writing, a little painting… And since it's spring, a little yard work as well. And oh yeah, there's a new Wondie movie out today...<br />
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</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-78478747065660394782017-03-20T11:00:00.000-04:002017-03-21T07:49:27.891-04:00review: Wonder Woman, the True Amazon<br />
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<b>Wonder Woman: The True Amazon</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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by Jill Thompson, writer and artist<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jim Chadwick, editor<o:p></o:p></div>
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2016<o:p></o:p></div>
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So often I hear people say that Wonder Woman has had NO good stories told about her. I want to scream. Then others will list their Top 10 WW Stories, and again I scream, because they're usually quite recent stories, and very often quite awful ones. Yes, Wondie has had TERRIFIC stories... but not enough. Too often the staff given her does not respect her or just doesn't have talent and/or inspiration, and Editorial lets them get away with offering substandard material.<br />
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But now we were going to have a WW graphic novel! Oh boy! Graphic novels are for special, quality stories (unless they concern themselves with alternate-world scenarios which there are far too many of. But those happen to characters and groups that have had lots of great stories already told elsewhere).<br />
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Jill Thompson would be on Wondie again. This should be good! Judging from the hype and knowing her quirky style, I imagine this will be a fine kids' book. I mean: Jill Thompson! Wondie! Kids don't have access to the kind of comics I was able to revel in when I was young. Why, when I was VERY young, I had Kanigher/Andru & Esposito's Wonder Family tales to amaze me. They were PERFECT for kids of that era. This book is rated 12+, which is older than what I'd supposed. Well, let's dig into it and see.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpsnmKCA6f1C7a26gtoWygPv98HwYCVnSRNxxjtWQ8NX9ol2RqMxWbN7Ded3XmZqkFa1ppWc2u7k2kyMRhK4hgnY8w5J3F9TPaOPuDB_K6AkwkBi6e0Th6gkosb7w01qc0udsrIjvzHec/s1600/ww-grows-up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpsnmKCA6f1C7a26gtoWygPv98HwYCVnSRNxxjtWQ8NX9ol2RqMxWbN7Ded3XmZqkFa1ppWc2u7k2kyMRhK4hgnY8w5J3F9TPaOPuDB_K6AkwkBi6e0Th6gkosb7w01qc0udsrIjvzHec/s320/ww-grows-up.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diana grows up. See? Kid-friendly stuff!</td></tr>
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The first page is a lovely watercolor of Paradise Island. Then we’re introduced to the Amazons, who are five times stronger than men and brave in battle. We get a quick origin: <o:p></o:p></div>
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The land of the Amazons is called “Amazonium.” (No, that's not treated as a metal here.) The king of Mycenae claims that Amazon queen Hippolyta has tried to steal his daughter away from him. Therefore, he sends Herakles to conquer the Amazons and take her Golden Girdle so the daughter will see the error of her ways. (In the actual myths, daughter Admeta demanded the Girdle for her own, so Daddy sent Herk to get it for her. Why change the myth?)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Herk declares war on the Amazons and we see lots of slaughter. Not kid-friendly! Well, the action and narrative were rather vague, so maybe it was okay. I was struck by the way Thompson had Hippolyta step back from her DUTY to face Herakles in combat and let some redshirt do it instead. This is not how things were done back then. Kings and generals fought each other in person; only the infirm and cowardly did not.<br />
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As more armies joined Herk, the losing Amazons sued for peace. Instead, Herakles chained the queen. Zeus watched and lusted over her, deciding to disguise himself as one of Herk’s men and go to her (how kid-friendly!), but Hera overheard and sent a ship for the Amazons to escape to, away from both her husband and Herk. A confusing scene involving a VERY large, distracting helmet shows us the queen slipping out of Herk’s grasp while he’s able to saw her girdle off her with a knife. (But not skewer her while doing so. ???)<br />
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Then we come to some pages about life in Themyscira, where the Amazons busy themselves with peace and the arts. But Hippy wants one thing more: a child. Every evening she sculpts a baby in the sands of the island and sings a love song to it. We see her song spreading across the ocean and up to the heavens, to Olympus itself. Everyone is charmed by it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I thought okay, forget all the violence and this is shaping up to be a very nice kid’s book. Lovely, magical stuff!<o:p></o:p></div>
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The gods are so moved by the song they weep, and their tears endow the sculpture with life. Diana is born! The nation celebrates and “they poured all of their energy into granting her every desire.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is <b>Silver Platter Diana*</b>, one that automatically got her powers <i>without</i> working for them. (FYI: I'm a <b>firm</b> believer in Amazon Training.) She is spoiled “and no one ever told her ‘no.’” Diana grows up a conceited bully. Her nation just smiles at her and makes things worse. She blames others for her misdeeds.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoq1s2uaNOMZS9vKoas6mY1weKnhy-_wbCYLeKWXNv2EqNon3p3hqfCCfVBCf3vM8AgbLIArpX4RaXRH0OjJXmaZnXonK-uzqW3KZItoqEifHabSp4dNOFxCZ7V9TBY0sfODrRzewI0c/s1600/no-one-ever-told-her-no.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="73" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjoq1s2uaNOMZS9vKoas6mY1weKnhy-_wbCYLeKWXNv2EqNon3p3hqfCCfVBCf3vM8AgbLIArpX4RaXRH0OjJXmaZnXonK-uzqW3KZItoqEifHabSp4dNOFxCZ7V9TBY0sfODrRzewI0c/s320/no-one-ever-told-her-no.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Oh no! This is an Alternate Universe Diana after all! Somebody kill me now.</div>
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When she hears of mysterious, evil creatures on the island, the now-grown Diana sets off to conquer them — and gain the treasures they guard. Her feats are celebrated except by Alethea, who tends the queen’s horses. She gives Diana the cold shoulder. Diana tries to bribe her, but Alethea says, “My friendship cannot be bought…. I am loved by a person’s honest actions and how they treat those around them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiRXJE4p2-j2HYbo1SJzoNH78wAf0q_ZyuJ5lplJv4B8DlLYBxSC0RwFgDhmfjnUaOta9M3MiNwiCJDlIjdmvmoUoGkpDPR7iMwC1eGYRpxSfKd4cNuUuAPlRY79DNwbfemVPeEHeFaU/s1600/first-oath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiRXJE4p2-j2HYbo1SJzoNH78wAf0q_ZyuJ5lplJv4B8DlLYBxSC0RwFgDhmfjnUaOta9M3MiNwiCJDlIjdmvmoUoGkpDPR7iMwC1eGYRpxSfKd4cNuUuAPlRY79DNwbfemVPeEHeFaU/s320/first-oath.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vow to be Worthy #1</td></tr>
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So Diana sets off to prove she does that more than anyone else. Then, when it comes time for an annual festival to commemorate the nation’s warrior past, Diana enters to win “for the champion is the best of all Amazons and must embody all of the qualities that Alethea admires!” (Though the championship seems to be a reward for physical prowess and not that plus good character.)</div>
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Interestingly enough, there are several others who are in Diana’s range of power and abilities, and she’s not sure of being the winner. During a chariot race she panics, decides to distract her competitors’ horses, and uses a magic horn to release the horrific creatures she’d once imprisoned. Though Diana crosses the finish line first, the creatures kill horses and severely injure Amazons. As the battle rages, the others try to protect themselves, and one, to protect Diana. That Amazon is ravaged by a monster and dies, while the rest of the monsters escape to all corners.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Q06yTFo1c7d4x4p2Hzhz2LQrii7mhYDpwu7rblcq9BmmV4y4tRCIbwwz5FmL7aRNziE0Ax0jZkRuRw2uqCo6gK4RxRuDsAibypu4XHaxsyIwu2LIxn3ijs3E_OR0tN5iVQ48Oj5alEg/s320/aella-in-defense.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alethea, acting honorably and bravely.</td></tr>
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The story goes into detail about the terrifying injuries many Amazons suffered, and how horses had to be euthanized. Great kiddie material there. And of course the dead Amazon is Alethea.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz53hKl8T61HCD_PvdYQkjgrT-0ak6cVSYM3yz2d4LgcJkKnc9J9uVAlOoYhqEDFppGjwhuSbn7VJgBGfoYG-tmA85g8_693BvdS82Tjk7f8jmlYn7SUt2n6RJ8VbBHZx6HrfxOhyphenhyphenJ30E/s1600/injuries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz53hKl8T61HCD_PvdYQkjgrT-0ak6cVSYM3yz2d4LgcJkKnc9J9uVAlOoYhqEDFppGjwhuSbn7VJgBGfoYG-tmA85g8_693BvdS82Tjk7f8jmlYn7SUt2n6RJ8VbBHZx6HrfxOhyphenhyphenJ30E/s320/injuries.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note how the language is definitely kiddie-level. Too bad the story and art are not.</td></tr>
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The queen arrives to ask what has caused this horror, and all fingers point at Diana. The queen realizes that spoiling Diana has led her to this. “There must be an atonement.” (Of course the queen doesn't call punishment on herself or the other Amazons for having raised a kid this way.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana makes a private vow: “Never will I rest until I have undone the wrongs I have committed… I dedicate my eternal life to serving others and using my gifts for altruism and not gain.” Yeah, like she paid attention to her first vow. And "altruism" is likely outside the vocabulary of a 12-year-old.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7eViee8l0Ebumb0YfbgBnpSqgSbrnpFH6gUYRJ2nF11BhH86AnhUUpSGN9bmKutPsh3Z2xCe2csa0dkoDfAYOA8r5voMvxqVLTDDADkG2092lD7fFyWh16wdeGBMuQn_392B0CcHk64/s1600/second-vow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7eViee8l0Ebumb0YfbgBnpSqgSbrnpFH6gUYRJ2nF11BhH86AnhUUpSGN9bmKutPsh3Z2xCe2csa0dkoDfAYOA8r5voMvxqVLTDDADkG2092lD7fFyWh16wdeGBMuQn_392B0CcHk64/s320/second-vow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vow to be Worthy #2</td></tr>
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The next day, as the other Amazons yell at the queen to kill Diana, torture her, whatever, others ask what would Diana’s death serve? The queen calls Diana and garbs her in an outfit much like a regular WW outfit (and mimicking what Alethea had worn in the contest), with few exceptions. “This enchanted crown that you so coveted shall be upon your brow like a crown of thorns…” Why mention a Christian motif here?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posing for the Action Figure in an outfit that declares her to be a pariah.</td></tr>
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The the queen banishes her until she has paid for her treachery. We see her getting in a rowboat and eventually finding land.<br />
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So let me get this straight: Bad, bad Diana makes a vow that
she’ll be such a good person that Alethea will like her. Then she goes crazy
and deliberately unleashes a horror upon her sisters so she can win a contest.
Then Diana makes a vow what she’ll be such a good person that dead Alethea will
like her. Then she goes into the Outer World… End book.<br />
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Okay, the final panel says: "...And even now she wanders the world, defending the weak, righting wrongs and fighting evil. But those are stories for another day."<br />
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NO!!! Those are stories for a graphic novel! Stories set in the mainstream DC universe, showing us what a GREAT CHARACTER Wonder Woman is!!!! Not some story telling us that she's a sleaze.</div>
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<div class="Body">
Do we have ANY clue that this Diana will actually heed her vow? We’ve
seen that vows don’t mean much to Diana. Why should we believe one small narrative panel? Why didn't we get PROOF that Diana had abided by -- or failed -- her vow? The plot completely lacks an ending.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br /></div>
<div class="Body">
This book is entitled <i>Wonder Woman: The True Amazon. </i>Yet it doesn't tell a story about anyone like that. If writers don’t want to write about Wonder Woman, why can’t they
come up with original characters to write about instead of soiling established
heroes? Especially ones who need all the positive, quality, respectful stories they can get?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br /></div>
<div class="Body">
By artistic and writing style, this would seem to be a book for
kids — very likely kids wanting to know more about Wonder Woman. But this is
not Wonder Woman. And the violence depicted is not kiddie
material.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br /></div>
<div class="Body">
Part of the back material (there are a lot of “the making of this
book” kind of pages) is “designing the Wonder Woman statue.” Perhaps this is
the end-all: to give an excuse for yet another variant WW statue.
(Yawn.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body">
<br /></div>
<div class="Body">
Such a disappointment. Imagine if the book had been a charming
children’s story about Diana growing up. Imagine if it had been aimed at middle schoolers, grade schoolers, high schoolers, or adults. (Choose one group and remember not to talk down to kids.)<br />
<br />
It is a mystery to me why DC would not take the chance at a graphic novel to say: Look here! Here's the character you know! Here's a great, heroic story about her! If you're new to Wonder Woman, we'll show you why you should not only be interested in her, but excited with her legend. This story is true to her mythos, reiterates what the general public knows about her, and shows that she's still a vibrant concept in the 21st Century. Plus, did we say? -- it's a great story!<br />
<br />
----<br />
*Post-Crisis Diana was also (so unfortunately) Silver Platter Diana, as have been the majority if not all of the versions since. The early Silver Age WW was also technically Silver Platter (we saw the gods blessing her at birth, though that, like WW's "beautiful as Aphrodite, etc." intro lines, could be written off as hyped-up language written by a poet who didn't mind being smitten by jealous gods), though she often referred to (and sometimes we saw) constant physical Amazon Training. Even Wolfman's original screwed-up origin of Donna Troy mentioned the importance of Amazon Training. Being a mere female, WW often had to be shown as having not had to WORK, much less WORK HARD to be who and where she was. [Insert "loser" buzzer sound here.]<br />
<br />
Superman didn't have to do a thing for his powers except sunbathe now and then. Batman? Had to WORK and train to keep his skills sharp. Which character is more popular, hm?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-13823374756112741742017-03-13T11:00:00.000-04:002017-03-13T11:41:44.537-04:00The next wave of medicine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpA-jG2hPxHoaCi13J0Pl7x3n1uGnZoDxEAd5lIIo2IqWiae5gCFCrcpp_IzWfUrhh0JhymyilFe8_BuLQjLannVVxr-XJ3B91bQzSdzyxWAiyaHwH4oUxy4MBEIcFx66GYGZJh5A64Hg/s1600/rhine+logo.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpA-jG2hPxHoaCi13J0Pl7x3n1uGnZoDxEAd5lIIo2IqWiae5gCFCrcpp_IzWfUrhh0JhymyilFe8_BuLQjLannVVxr-XJ3B91bQzSdzyxWAiyaHwH4oUxy4MBEIcFx66GYGZJh5A64Hg/s320/rhine+logo.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I hate driving at night. You can't get me to go out on Saturday night, the night drunk drivers so love. But I attended an event for the Rhine Research Center last night, a Saturday. Usually they meet at the Whatshisface Theater, but this time they met at Dook's Episcopal Center. Funding problems? Well, this was their spring fundraising event. They're trying for $10,000. About 100 people attended.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For the first hour, we honored Dr. John Palmer, who's been editor of <i>The Journal of Parapsychology</i> for some 25 years or so. He received the J.B. and Louisa [pronounced with a long "i"] Rhine Distinguished Service Award.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWT7tXIOGEYgnKEAydjbujanNy-7cL9IFpIXnNwaoSVXw59yly4EyiGLBS8wZGgMz03O40UvGIOxhLyX_V1vY3pTdechAkvhfCBUVvV-CvLtVdjXPGMsvBBcNX6-UgOPcZyl_wxYblj3I/s1600/Dr.+Palmer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWT7tXIOGEYgnKEAydjbujanNy-7cL9IFpIXnNwaoSVXw59yly4EyiGLBS8wZGgMz03O40UvGIOxhLyX_V1vY3pTdechAkvhfCBUVvV-CvLtVdjXPGMsvBBcNX6-UgOPcZyl_wxYblj3I/s320/Dr.+Palmer.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. John Palmer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dr. Palmer was called the "rock star" of parapsychology. If papers came in to the journal whose methodology wasn't up to his standard of snuff, he sent them back for more work. The Rhines's daughter, Sally Feather*, talked fondly about him for a while, and others came up to do the same, such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_McMoneagle" target="_blank">Joe McMoneagle</a>, the astounding remote viewer (and out of body traveler, though the two may be the same thing; studies are ongoing about that) who worked (works?) for the government in their now-somewhat-declassified "Stargate" section. (This was well before any Stargate sf stuff.) McMoneagle told us "the best science in the world is being done in the paranormal." It has to be exacting. It has to be replicable. It has to be SCIENCE.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Rhine Center must have been a crazy place back in the 50s and 60s. People talked of the wild weekly parties they had. (Barbara Ensrud, the head of the Board of the Directors, mused afterward: "We need to have more parties.") There was one fellow who, every time he saw Dr. Palmer, tackled him (accompanied by others) and placed his hand on his forehead, bellowing (and here the guy telling the story also bellowed) "IN THE NAME OF JAY-ZUS! HEAL!" No matter how quietly Dr. Palmer snuck in, the guy would tackle him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Funny stuff, congratulations, and best of luck and health to Dr. Palmer on his retirement! But that's not what we're here for in this column.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Like I said:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Next Wave of Medicine</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Guest speaker for the night was Dr. William (Bill) Bengston. I've raved elsewhere about his first book, <i>The Energy Cure.</i> Last night he told us that he didn't come up with that title; his publishers did. He insisted that energy has nothing to do with psychic healing, at least the kind he's investigating. However, "The Energy Cure" sells books, so that was that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He first got into psychic healing when he was 22 and a psychic healed his back. He studied with the man for years, eventually becoming an expert in it himself, but was troubled because he didn't know how he was accomplishing whatever it was he was accomplishing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the meantime he'd been studying to be and eventually becoming a professor in sociology. For the past 30 years he has also been conducting rigorously scientific tests of "psychic healing." These tests can easily be -- and have been -- replicated around the world, over and over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Last night he said that he'd gotten to the point where, if a test had been done 300 times with the same results, he didn't see a reason to do it the 301st time. He says it's time to put the studies into practical use.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What has been done mostly in the experiments, or at least that I've heard about, is injecting mice with breast cancer cells, far above the amount that are usually done in tests. The control mice live for about 20-some days. The others that are worked on... Well, they develop tumors. The tumors get ulcerated. Then the tumor implodes, completely disappearing. The mice are cancer-free.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The mice are injected with more cancer cells. They don't develop cancer. Blood from these mice is injected into infected mice. Their cancer disappears and, again, they never develop cancer again. They are IMMUNE.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This all comes from holding the mice cages. The infected mice gather around the holder's left hand. Once they've (the researchers guess) received the dose they need, they exit the mob. When all have received the dose, or when they're all healed, they ignore the hand. (Children will also do this, wandering away when they've had enough.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In addition to mice, people have been included as being the healees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sessions have been done in shielding steel vaults with all kinds of electronic detecting devices inside. No energies have been detected. (The Rhine, which is conducting independent tests with the method, says they've detected "biophotons," but will test further.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And get this: a person can "charge" some materials, like cotton and water. Those materials can be sent to a sick person and heal them. You can take the cotton material, cut it in half, give it to Person A with condition X, then cut the remaining material in half again and give it to Person B with condition Y, and Person C with Condition Z... and they will all be cured. The same energy can cure different conditions.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The talk last night said they were concentrating on various cancers and Alzheimer's, which get excellent results. Dr. Bengston showed us slides of how they check down to the gene to see what exactly is being affected.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The method is non-linear. This means it goes up and down. You can show a lot of healing one day, and after the next healing things seem to go backward, and then the next one heals things completely. Dr. Bengston is eager to begin experiments to see if one can heal illness retroactively. !</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But wait! You don't need blood or cotton or water to heal. Inside those steel containers they made sound recordings during a healing session, which consisted pretty much of breathing or silence, I would suppose (maybe some innocuous chatting, because the technique requires one to NOT think about healing while doing it). When played to psychic sensitives, the sensitive could tell when the healing was taking place, as if a nova hard just gone off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And other subjects were healed just by listening to the tape.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Is there an app for that?</b></span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It'll be coming up, if some tests coming through in the next few weeks hold with the theory. For 99 cents you'll be able to listen to your iPad and be healed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bengston said the scientific community and public attitudes are changing toward all areas of parapsychology. Younger people don't want to know about proof. They want to know what you can do with it. When Bengston speaks to doctors at universities, he finds that the smaller lecture rooms he usually is booked in have three times the amount of people trying to hear him than can be accommodated. Instead, video has to be set up so everyone can be seated in other rooms to listen. Before he leaves, he often gets invitations to set up experiments at that university, which is why he currently has studies going in ten or so universities around the US.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Again, energy healing has nothing to do with energy, he thinks. It's more a condition of CONSCIOUSNESS, which many believe to be the next HUGE thing in science. He talks of resonant bonding between healer and healee, as well as how placebos work, which seems to be part of this "meaning field" that psychic healing sets up. It is selected by consciousness. "Life responds when it has a need."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The energy in this method is radiated from the left hand. People who use this method for a while, though right-handed from birth, find that they've become left-handed. How cool is that?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And Dr. Bengston says that he tries to choose non-believers or sorta agnostics to healing as the people who do the method. Believers don't do so well with it, which left me wondering how people who do this often and see positive results, don't qualify as "believers." Hm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dr. Bengston told us that because people who try healing with the intent of doing healing often get bad results, if we got sick, perhaps the last person we wanted to see was a medical doctor. (He's a really funny guy! Had us in stitches.) At this point,</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> someone in the audience offered a well-known anecdote: When Israeli doctors went on strike, the nation's mortality rate decreased for the duration.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anyway, a fascinating, fascinating talk with lots of slides showing test results (but not excruciating test results, as this was a talk for the Rhine supporters and not the medical establishment). The FDA will not be able to control a 99-cent app that does not promise healing but rather says, "try it and maybe it will work for you." Look for this VERY soon, and look for the studies to expand to illnesses besides cancer and Alzheimer's.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Rhine has many studies in this area slated for 2017-2018. I want to join one of their healing groups, which is trained in (but not by) Dr. Bengston's methods (look up those <a href="http://www.bengstonresearch.com/" target="_blank">here</a>). But the Rhine is always struggling for funds. This spring they're offering a <a href="https://go.rallyup.com/rhine-1" target="_blank">raffle</a> with all kinds of keen prizes. The top prize is a trip to Tuscany, Italy. There are also trips to West Palm Beach, psychic readings, and <i>Journal</i> subscriptions, which I already get because I'm a member, darn.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Again, that website for the raffle is <a href="https://go.rallyup.com/rhine-1">https://go.rallyup.com/rhine-1</a>. Support the Rhine!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">----</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">*I looked up J.B. on Wiki to try to discover Sally's last name, and instead found this line: "Rhine's results have never been duplicated by the scientific community." Which of course is pure, 100% hooey. All the major divisions of parapsychology have been quite scientifically proven and successfully retested around the world, many for some 100 years now. Wiki does NOT like the Rhine or anything to do with parapsychology. They post lots of disinformation ("alternative facts") about it.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-14280924666442717602017-02-22T08:10:00.000-05:002017-02-22T08:10:10.802-05:00Time to get working!Okay, so last year I made a solemn promise to myself to slow down, enjoy the world as time passed by, and to get out and do LOTS and LOTS of plein air painting so as to up my craft skills. Did I do that?<br />
<br />
HAH! No.<br />
<br />
This year I was brought to a halt by fairly major surgery. All treatment should be over on that in another couple weeks -- just some minor stuff left to do. (I'm fine now and will be even finer by mid-March.) But this meant I was sprawled in my blue LaZBoy for weeks, watching <i>The Great British Baking Show</i> and plotting about how very ACTIVE I'd be when I could get up again.<br />
<br />
Guess what? Last Saturday was not only supposed to be crazy nice weather-wise, but Sunday was as well, in case I needed more time. I gathered up my supplies and took them into the back yard. I'm starting in the yard because it's been YEARS since I plein air painted, and couldn't quite recall what all was needed. When I took my first class in plein air, I wondered why "pack animal" wasn't on our list of needed supplies, because our teacher wanted us to bring along practically an entire studio of stuff!<br />
<br />
Can't really complain, because she does FABULOUS work. But still...<br />
<br />
I found the best view but rejected it because there was no shade for me or my canvas. A few steps away I set up in the shadow of my garden shed. I peered at the sky. The sun would be moving that way and the shadows would...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8grXD2274RJvrbsWTNeLt5_e-4qdls3pv-yUfUux-5l0cCqXipJswRvw617Rk2uN3xrWqlbyCFG-FdCthPLC7iyeA2kyyTBPSVIi88ase1sM5NMBocwKPTIJYtuz30ENRXJ8aK9GNnDU/s1600/P2190016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8grXD2274RJvrbsWTNeLt5_e-4qdls3pv-yUfUux-5l0cCqXipJswRvw617Rk2uN3xrWqlbyCFG-FdCthPLC7iyeA2kyyTBPSVIi88ase1sM5NMBocwKPTIJYtuz30ENRXJ8aK9GNnDU/s320/P2190016.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dramatic scene!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Oh well. Finally got everything set up and began. Whoops, had to grab something else from the house. Now to start. Whoops, needed something else.<br />
<br />
This is why we practice.<br />
<br />
Anyway, by the time the shadows had moved so very, very much even I had to concede, I thought I'd gotten a good start on things.<br />
<br />
The next day I was in the middle of a very good Regency romance. It was through SHEER, DETERMINED EFFORT that I pulled myself out of my LaZBoy and trotted outside. This time setup only took about 15 minutes.<br />
<br />
After a little over an hour (that sun moves FAST!) (relatively speaking, of course; Earth goes around the sun, check, check) I signed the piece, cleaned the area, and went inside.<br />
<br />
ACK!!! What had happened to my highlights? They were well down on the value scale. The next night after work I corrected them, added a bit more substance to my background, which had grayed down to nothing, put in some darker bits to add contrast, etc etc.<br />
<br />
And here's what I got.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3akgwE2uvVl9SAZ4QT3mFqqwJJWI9a30Rdu-2mUiERdpTnmsgTE-HUOnJYyNMiTxy1zibnwsbEnjJ_RZrdBEXCEsXT2Qdyc9JgdeFFAy_grd2mUITvDf53WWXSA4Y4DE6oQzVCzvGyEU/s1600/Almost_Spring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3akgwE2uvVl9SAZ4QT3mFqqwJJWI9a30Rdu-2mUiERdpTnmsgTE-HUOnJYyNMiTxy1zibnwsbEnjJ_RZrdBEXCEsXT2Qdyc9JgdeFFAy_grd2mUITvDf53WWXSA4Y4DE6oQzVCzvGyEU/s320/Almost_Spring.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Almost Spring," acrylic on stretched canvas<br />8x10"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Practice makes perfect. I'll be doing this a LOT during the year, and also working on those one-hour paintings that people say up your skills a lot faster than doing big paintings. Of course I still have big paintings on my easel to work on because I have to change out things at the Saratoga Grill in Hillsborough every two months. But it will get done, pretty much.<br />
<br />
Now... What are YOU doing to increase your enjoyment of life and relish the passing time? I mean, besides reading Regencies and watching baking shows.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-77364720690729845352016-10-31T12:47:00.001-04:002016-11-01T08:43:56.893-04:00Anatomy of a Murder, I mean, Painting!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Happy Halloween!</div>
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If you've been reading my blog, you'll know that in July I travelled to England and Scotland. I love to travel! Regular blog-readers will also know that my previous incarnation had joined the US Navy to see the world, only to be stuck inside a cramped submarine during WWII. When the sub surrendered to the Japanese, he chose to commit suicide.</div>
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Is it any wonder that I like to travel? Now and then on this trip (having recently met my previous incarnation), I would stop and ask, "Willy [for that was his name], are you enjoying this? Seeing the world?" I'd get a distinct impression of pleasurable amusement from him.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-z-tAlvzm4PVVzldTfAxukmxYQxyqdstWS0UlMRTZik3KduXjqKLUFgpgJLEqfIasHox38CASUVpRGXzm-er157-RAR_aakKXzGFkIcVT2tLtSEuRsE_AkHTjO7_wiqlKowin7XpLKtg/s1600/stow+sketch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-z-tAlvzm4PVVzldTfAxukmxYQxyqdstWS0UlMRTZik3KduXjqKLUFgpgJLEqfIasHox38CASUVpRGXzm-er157-RAR_aakKXzGFkIcVT2tLtSEuRsE_AkHTjO7_wiqlKowin7XpLKtg/s320/stow+sketch.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I cheated. I cheated big-time. I blew up the original picture and traced it onto the canvas.<br />
Didn't want to struggle through all that perspective and such. Bad, bad Strick!<br />
Then again, one of my college profs, a big-name illustrator turned fine artist, always told us that<br />
anything that brought us quickly to doing the actual art was entirely "legal." Yay!</td></tr>
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I take SCADS of photos on my vacations! In the future, I'm hoping to have enough time to stop and do some plein air paintings. But this was a bus tour, and bus tours aren't set up to really see the countryside, much less stop for a couple hours so someone can paint.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVIkJDIClGco9iqu1HYmyC1M6KcKbF3xs5TSQwbjG_W63xeSUtEqNlWbNMGqabk73XfFyXghyphenhyphenR_QlkKyVTM2u1xA4HftoGyhEVJQy_L2LxMyomuv0CDmB6VQcc-PUWn6Amv8RT3ZdH1I/s1600/rough+colors+stow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVIkJDIClGco9iqu1HYmyC1M6KcKbF3xs5TSQwbjG_W63xeSUtEqNlWbNMGqabk73XfFyXghyphenhyphenR_QlkKyVTM2u1xA4HftoGyhEVJQy_L2LxMyomuv0CDmB6VQcc-PUWn6Amv8RT3ZdH1I/s320/rough+colors+stow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's no scarier thing in this world than a white canvas. Usually I do a bunch of random color<br />
washes, but here I was experimenting with color as well as value. The values of the background<br />
buildings and sky are opposite what they were in the photo. It was an overcast day, but<br />
it was a BRIGHT overcast. I was trying my hand at "Playing God" within my painting.<br />
**I** control the color. **I** control the value! Bwa-ha-haaa!</td></tr>
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So I work from photos. I usually have a handful of shots of the same site to work from, but in this case I'd just turned around and there it was. I was on my way back to the bus there in England's Stow-on-the-Wold and didn't have that much time to lose. Click! I knew it would be a perfect shot.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBJCecLvsy0PvaDbzyp1qt37Q741IMdVv_MbiqIT4byd6DpmMHp8_-L-txEkSFjHVeibcBlvTrp7aMCIGdA6uEz5kG2oWij4MT7yFIf0I_kQjeqDx1volrmI4iGnw9_jHhFrslHY0pzI/s1600/stow+sit+and+see.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBJCecLvsy0PvaDbzyp1qt37Q741IMdVv_MbiqIT4byd6DpmMHp8_-L-txEkSFjHVeibcBlvTrp7aMCIGdA6uEz5kG2oWij4MT7yFIf0I_kQjeqDx1volrmI4iGnw9_jHhFrslHY0pzI/s320/stow+sit+and+see.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking of "playing God," I put a cat in that one window who wasn't there originally. Felt<br />
so naughty! This is the "wait and see" stage, where I leave the canvas on the easel for a<br />
few days (or in this case, weeks) so I can come back with fresh eyes and make final changes.</td></tr>
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I love painting from my travel photos. It cements me to the memory and as my skills improve, I like to think that I'm bringing out aspects of the place that people don't usually notice.</div>
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I also hope that viewers will be immersed in the atmosphere of the spot. Perhaps they've been there. Perhaps they've dreamed of traveling there.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7QgyHtvY8rqWpaThHneLSMGIQPVwHz5L0nEHFADSvMtUxuZHQBT5wFZFakRDMpnnwVQK6zu4FAmJY8o7sj_BrjH_Fh4IZjglV-i3nb4oUJcVJwaJYPrqEM7kOS57rB96UN9IqQGNFn0/s1600/stow+on+the+wold+final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7QgyHtvY8rqWpaThHneLSMGIQPVwHz5L0nEHFADSvMtUxuZHQBT5wFZFakRDMpnnwVQK6zu4FAmJY8o7sj_BrjH_Fh4IZjglV-i3nb4oUJcVJwaJYPrqEM7kOS57rB96UN9IqQGNFn0/s320/stow+on+the+wold+final.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final changes were mostly in that ochre archway on the right, toning it down and<br />
tying it more to the purple side of the house. "Stow-on-the-Wold" (I<br />
couldn't think of a snappier title), 18x24", oil on top of acrylic; stretched canvas.</td></tr>
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Maybe they're like Willy and can never set out to see the wider world. However the world brings them to view my art, I hope they like it.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-548985125601576212016-09-01T20:56:00.001-04:002016-09-02T08:32:11.454-04:00The Brilliant Parade to LondonWe were back in England! Gretna Green was behind us so it was time for the Cotswolds and Lake District, both of which had marvelous scenery epitomizing what people think of when they think of England.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFYP3sS84qEGc54VVotWZkpSPGQ66AOFTbCBFI9AubcigGvdn4lwnELIBfl2_-UoA3KEX81pcz74ZXi9-JoMQdfcgM7iriMN0dJW6Zefx64Ohax4IcjewK6iRETN4f_SDd2lb4SDZGM4/s1600/P7230598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFYP3sS84qEGc54VVotWZkpSPGQ66AOFTbCBFI9AubcigGvdn4lwnELIBfl2_-UoA3KEX81pcz74ZXi9-JoMQdfcgM7iriMN0dJW6Zefx64Ohax4IcjewK6iRETN4f_SDd2lb4SDZGM4/s320/P7230598.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A large carpark surrounded by a charming town.</td></tr>
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Stow-on-the-Wold had a huge parking lot in the middle of the town, but around that were picturesque shops and churches, and some lovely people to talk with. I found the most stereotypically cute tea room EVER and sat down to have the delicious omelet I'd been longing for all day (ESP at work?), while my dining companion had quiche. The tea was to die for. The perky young waitress said she loved my accent. Squee!<br />
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The sun played hide-and-seek, only coming out when I didn't have my camera ready. Still, I got in some great shots that I think will make eye-catching paintings. Give 'em the ol' Thomas Kinkade look, right? And of course I had an adventure in a public loo. This one seemed like a cave (its walls were stone), and it had giant push buttons inside to lock and unlock doors -- giant pushbuttons that were quite easy to overlook. Well, they were. And as for washing up afterward… Well, a little fumbling around and there was a niche in the wall where water gushed on if you stuck your hand in far enough. All this adventure for only 20p or so.<br />
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After that was… Wait! I missed Blair Castle back in Scotland. Well, you got the crazy farm tea in England noted in the Scottish section, so we'll just backtrack here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnw-1MtL2CWl_chqRmb1KLrfGvaQbR0kAYOIhfsqJnA_UmiN-TZRDB3VYynxOi_-Ak12sd2U8-2k8SLLyVunL6_wRZhzj4FgzQHrzrHxSfHBwYBXDxlAyXgkdGqKr7eQaXcIgToM5WMI/s1600/for-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnw-1MtL2CWl_chqRmb1KLrfGvaQbR0kAYOIhfsqJnA_UmiN-TZRDB3VYynxOi_-Ak12sd2U8-2k8SLLyVunL6_wRZhzj4FgzQHrzrHxSfHBwYBXDxlAyXgkdGqKr7eQaXcIgToM5WMI/s320/for-blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Renovations and picture straightening ongoing at Blair Castle.</td></tr>
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Blair Castle. I'd been admiring the UK's housing as we rode around. It all looked so very British, every bit of it. There weren't any trailers like back… Wait a mo. There's a trailer park, out in the middle of nowhere. Then we turned onto a private lane and went past a Boy Scout/Guides/whatever international jamboree, and there were more trailers (manufactured housing, as the guy who sold me my double-wide kept insisting), interspersed with RVs and tents.<br />
<br />
Turned out all the permanent stuff was for short-term rental. There are lots of tourists who come through to hike, ride horses, and attend Boy Scout stuff on the grounds of Blair Castle. They can live on the grounds. The house/castle's facade is rather recent, though the insides are quite the mansion. Hillary took us into the lobby to begin the official tour and told us to be back at the bus by whatever o'clock was coming up.<br />
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The tour was fairly interesting, demonstrating do-dads and thingamabobs and portraits and restorations and new plaster decor over the centuries-old furnishings. But our guide was Asian, and she had a difficult time with quite a few places in her script.<br />
<br />
I see where some UK folks could be worried about being "taken over" by furriners, and thus vote for Brexit. The vast majority of customer service people I ran into over there were not British and spoke with very thick, sometimes unintelligible accents. (I'm talking to YOU, Hass. Kidding!) To go out into what you deem your familiar world and be surrounded by strange languages can be frightening. Imho, service personnel should be able to speak understandably and understand me so they can, you know, be of service. (I think all employers should be required to own various Rosetta Stone programs, or belong to a co-op [perhaps a library?] where they can find the correct origin language and have their employees learn English. Keep the new employee in a non-service area until they're ready. Win-win!)<br />
<br />
This lady had a SCRIPT she followed to conduct her tour. She knew what words were coming up. She should have had coaches to help her over the rough patches during training. I can see her being stymied by the odd question, but she should have been able to roll off her scripted speech like a charm. Instead there were many areas where she stumbled for words, and things like "mans" instead of "men" were spoken. Sometimes she couldn't get her paragraph out for the life of her and she had to skip ahead.<br />
<br />
Give the lady more rehearsal and tutoring before she's set before the public, please.<br />
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But we got the gist of it. I kept looking at my watch, because whatever o'clock was fast approaching. Finally! The tour ended and I ran through the estate's bathrooms, skipping the souvenir room and the grounds and gardens were were supposed to have time to tour/appreciate, and sped up to the bus. One minute late.<br />
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"Forevermore, why are you running?" Hillary had the NERVE to ask me. I was the first back. Surely she should have known how long the tour lasted and arranged for us to be there longer so we could have a more leisurely walkabout? Ah, but this was Trafalgar.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8o9MJ8rvwRkrtqv05Gps0i-DKEtJ2OUE61ErM0AQRRmtRshAvwMqHo_Om4ZA5NxWlG_yXCL9c_HSpBoeywSLp8MjqNUnhJE1QuMNPa1X0AfXq7zKH93O0Ol4JxSNRGdR0Eifrp7CdbsY/s1600/P7220550-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8o9MJ8rvwRkrtqv05Gps0i-DKEtJ2OUE61ErM0AQRRmtRshAvwMqHo_Om4ZA5NxWlG_yXCL9c_HSpBoeywSLp8MjqNUnhJE1QuMNPa1X0AfXq7zKH93O0Ol4JxSNRGdR0Eifrp7CdbsY/s320/P7220550-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windermere</td></tr>
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So anyway, back in England… Ah! Lake District! We went through a couple of towns located on lakes, but stopped for a few minutes in Windermere with just enough time to jump off the bus, go down to the shore and take some pictures. Lovely. There were swans and kids. And lots and lots of people.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Fm-nSHEisx2Md0CnD4GVsL6JBVOUMPK-hokJtHjwO3MWbyNohW62mAVRRhbHSycj12ljrYW2iZ1Jsb3LO1EMqbTqIbwOVdt70Y_bC8APjCqpN4J3Kxw1PP02APChPCO38R-dU1ET_QE/s1600/P7220523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Fm-nSHEisx2Md0CnD4GVsL6JBVOUMPK-hokJtHjwO3MWbyNohW62mAVRRhbHSycj12ljrYW2iZ1Jsb3LO1EMqbTqIbwOVdt70Y_bC8APjCqpN4J3Kxw1PP02APChPCO38R-dU1ET_QE/s320/P7220523.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grasmere</td></tr>
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Oh, just before that we were in Grasmere, home of William Wordsworth, whose work I don't think I've ever read beyond a couple lines here and there. But I saw his house as well as his grave, and his town is a lovely, lovely collection of white-walled cottages, tea rooms, and tiny galleries, with a stream burbling through its middle. Ahh!<br />
<br />
Now we were on major highways, and we entered Manchester. The neighborhoods kept declining in quality. Closed businesses lined the streets. We circled one block and sure enough: our hotel. It was a nice enough hotel even if the service in the restaurant stank to high heaven. (The food wasn't great, either.) Few ventured out, though Hillary assured us that a splendid shopping center was just a few blocks down. Two women reported back the next morning that it was just run-of-the-mill, and that they'd encountered more than a few drunks and addicts along the way, while stepping over broken glass. Lovely.<br />
<br />
A loud-mouthed Montrealer (noo! The idea!) in our party had had to find a drug store. "What did you need?" the loud-mouthed Australian (the lady who got such kicks out of bothering Robert) demanded to know the next day. "None of your business." "No really, what did you need? What? What?" Some people. Anyway, the Montrealer had asked at the front desk where she could find a pharmacy. "A what?" the desk lady asked.<br />
<br />
"Pharmacy. Drug store. Druggist. Apothecary."<br />
<br />
"I don't understand."<br />
<br />
The woman tried to describe such a place and what items one would buy there. "Oh, a chemist!" the desk lady squealed. Montreal Woman didn't appreciate that. We saw quite a few places called "drug store" and "pharmacy" as we drove through town the next day, and NONE called "chemist." "What do they expect the guys there to do?" MW asked me later. "Have a lab and test tubes bubbling away behind the counter?"<br />
<br />
Some service people like to see people squirm for kicks.<br />
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Anyway, we were all mystified at why Trafalgar had chosen Manchester as our stop. Why not Liverpool, which is just a few miles away? We'd all have been delighted (!!!) to take a Beatles tour!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26NYoVWw0QyPpb0x9_MDXHuXaFTLGUWHNulX4RqcDDeo4uvlBnWe-m8mk_TzPUKRdQNbF3Qhh9q_hpkD9OvOL_AHB6-eGQ-xfC4534eQ_ID8OlzWgnXGeFvVi5NVL1rrT6H5ip4Q-ktg/s1600/P7230629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26NYoVWw0QyPpb0x9_MDXHuXaFTLGUWHNulX4RqcDDeo4uvlBnWe-m8mk_TzPUKRdQNbF3Qhh9q_hpkD9OvOL_AHB6-eGQ-xfC4534eQ_ID8OlzWgnXGeFvVi5NVL1rrT6H5ip4Q-ktg/s320/P7230629.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earlier than sunset. The picture doesn't do it justice.</td></tr>
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We might have done that lunchtime, lock-in-the-loo farm in here (or more likely it was just before Grasmere) because the next stop I can think of was Bristol, a nice enough town. It seemed rather pleasant. Again, we were faced with a bridge at sundown that gave a romantically sweeping view of houseboats, etc. They had a statue of Cary Grant, who was born there.<br />
<br />
We had an unfortunate walking tour with a Local Guide who ran her mouth incessantly, didn't bother to step around all the many groups who were making a racket for various reasons (playing music, arguing, yelling to be yelling, etc), and who took off at full-out Speed Force speeds. We finally grabbed her and begged her to stop so everyone could catch up. We told her in no uncertain terms that she had to slow down!<br />
<br />
Almost immediately she resumed her rate and never bothered to look back except ONCE. She did so to tell us that she was a member of the local improv group and we should come to a show. When? We were foreigners on a bus tour! We arrived at our group dinner location (the place with the ice water I've told you about) completely zonked from the rush. I gave her a penny tip and hope she got the hint. I was not the only one to complain about her to Hillary. Rrr.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9S58QdljsG510vQc8tNBjPIS_q-CPfYRfwXWOPvEMOLIt2GaHCQoWFzr3VgGOPkNKWouDD3W0abCaiYxFScNs9eJCaw65TQLIhxqTV80dPmZiE3dWpK6RV5gVynKB9kZIzN9SWrVv_2A/s1600/P7240635-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9S58QdljsG510vQc8tNBjPIS_q-CPfYRfwXWOPvEMOLIt2GaHCQoWFzr3VgGOPkNKWouDD3W0abCaiYxFScNs9eJCaw65TQLIhxqTV80dPmZiE3dWpK6RV5gVynKB9kZIzN9SWrVv_2A/s320/P7240635-blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Royal Crescent, Bath.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWCtw_CK9ueBxi7KfNsqNwV1EbfvjIRkLfQAKiDm41e-cziPz9eWB792gM6PbPWhXoqo88XZYfEo3KCFg20fJ7Th4WcPOFtSXdA9Tb5Z2jIeX1Jny3WlVssreSpRHuZsQ7cDg84DdCxE/s1600/P7240647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWCtw_CK9ueBxi7KfNsqNwV1EbfvjIRkLfQAKiDm41e-cziPz9eWB792gM6PbPWhXoqo88XZYfEo3KCFg20fJ7Th4WcPOFtSXdA9Tb5Z2jIeX1Jny3WlVssreSpRHuZsQ7cDg84DdCxE/s320/P7240647.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interesting river, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next day we had a bath. Wait. Oh, we WENT to Bath. We saw the great semi-circle of townhouses that you always see in photos and of course is always mentioned in those Regencies I read. Bath has the most consistent use of Georgian limestone in the WORLD (memorable!) and is a World Heritage Site. It's very cool. Very British.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzw6xHCnZcbnjWGgxqDp2i5BObCfLSRp-Kz6GsZqiVnkfLtp7k9Kfheg2q9g5PNG3NSjgzLT1wItghyphenhyphenSg37QAoHxfyOAHV2LPedqFCpeZfdBYRVmXlqXRaVdMJaz-1SMb01rT_c6QRZS4/s1600/P7240658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzw6xHCnZcbnjWGgxqDp2i5BObCfLSRp-Kz6GsZqiVnkfLtp7k9Kfheg2q9g5PNG3NSjgzLT1wItghyphenhyphenSg37QAoHxfyOAHV2LPedqFCpeZfdBYRVmXlqXRaVdMJaz-1SMb01rT_c6QRZS4/s320/P7240658.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minerva likes to check out the bathers.</td></tr>
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But it also has the baths of which it gets its name. The Celts first used the hot springs, and then when the Romans came through they enjoyed them and built a whole complex on top of them. That complex has been uncovered and restored, and it is a true sight to see. Read about the place <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_Baths_(Bath)" target="_blank">here.</a> Not only is it all ruin-y, but there are marvelous museum rooms scattered about with artifacts and movies. You can choose from an adult program (not that kind of adult, silly!) or child-friendly narration. Occasionally players in Roman costume will stroll through the baths to have their pictures taken. It is really, really cool beans. And the souvenir stand is great.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garden along the river.</td></tr>
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There's a famous bun shop in town and I happened onto that, not knowing it was so famous. Meh. A huge bun with sandwich fixings plunked on top -- how unwieldy. VERY tiny shop. Still -- quaint. The poor wait staff were running as hard as they could, and after I arrived a long line began to form at the front door.<br />
<br />
It began to sprinkle as we waited for the bus to show up. We toodled off into the countryside, and along one rolling patch of green fields, I saw… a crop circle! Really! It looked like the Mickey Mouse Disney logo, upside down, one large circle with two smaller ones attached, with an antenna growing out of Mickey's right ear. When I got back and told my supervisor, he immediately Googled "crop circle" and "Stonehenge" (because that's what came next) and found pictures of a VERY elaborate crop circle just a little ways from Stonehenge that had been discovered… the day AFTER we'd been there. Mickey was nowhere in the design, unless he'd been part of an early version. Maybe a preliminary sketch?<br />
<br />
Did I say… STONEHENGE???! That's right, STONEHENGE!!! It really exists. It's stones. It's BIG. And there are more stones around, and big ol' lumps of land and pathways and ancient roads. And stuff.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0Ugj3WDMXpwi9MBY0M6ADjjBu3E35UQmNEam17-t-6BSnwei9vTCTWeLaHpLXhdit_xPWety2fSWfCkMvnGNLFNkHWe85b1efFb8mZ1JM_OLnPDAl7_eRozKo00CEqXh90xoaXFYC3k/s1600/P7240668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0Ugj3WDMXpwi9MBY0M6ADjjBu3E35UQmNEam17-t-6BSnwei9vTCTWeLaHpLXhdit_xPWety2fSWfCkMvnGNLFNkHWe85b1efFb8mZ1JM_OLnPDAl7_eRozKo00CEqXh90xoaXFYC3k/s320/P7240668.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the mounds that surround Stonehenge. They're not necessarily burial mounds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gWo9zDMVnDVaOWGWjTV_HuPLzl8jb0krI3KWsOMH1Zoi7ujGQYOS60wLqOpRotmKp9WkfSDmLh-IEaZkH4BPDJ2oMAj50Cokrtne2Nt7Krnzimu0xHf4BC204IePaN-dNu6eWDELTpY/s1600/P7240672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gWo9zDMVnDVaOWGWjTV_HuPLzl8jb0krI3KWsOMH1Zoi7ujGQYOS60wLqOpRotmKp9WkfSDmLh-IEaZkH4BPDJ2oMAj50Cokrtne2Nt7Krnzimu0xHf4BC204IePaN-dNu6eWDELTpY/s320/P7240672.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, in focus!</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Imagine: the ENTIRE POPULATION of England coming out on a Sunday to check out the place. They were ALL there. And the place could handle it. From one spot we could see the highway (we'd come in on a smaller country road), and that highway looked like the final shot of <i>Field of Dreams,</i> bumper-to-bumper traffic all proceeding toward us. The parking lot was big enough to handle it. There was a special bus parking lot with room for enough buses to take on a good-sized school district.</span><br />
<br />
You stopped at the visitor's center (shoulder-to-shoulder people) (all polite) and got on shuttles, which took you halfway to the site. At the halfway point you could get off to take the path through the pastures and past all those lumps, which were burial chambers and such, as the path eventually took you to the main site. Or you could be like me and just ride all the way up to the site.<br />
<br />
You can't touch the rocks unless you've got a special invitation to show up at a solstice. They have the place roped off. There was a guy!!! back there!!! right next to the rocks!!! and I wondered where the cops were until I noticed that he was dragging a hose with him and watering the grass. Well okay then.<br />
<br />
I took a few thousand shots of the place and discovered halfway through that I was getting blurry stuff. My camera does that; it's some button that's easy to brush against. Someday I must read the manual. I can't see the screen well in full sunlight to notice, but I do try to keep track. Got it back in focus, and it turns out that only about five hundred of the thousand (okay, that ratio) shots were blurry. Besides, they're just rocks. When I do my paintings I'll still have the placement right.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFukeydJ9dnA-KAnBbHKaTmTP0-sWtM7-uQEBwgznb7_VHdzWtwwJ-3pHYj5J2c9W3h6eR1uWkRKitYjb9CDpIEmNXc_afpcld9pXqmAQcY3sTQMLbX6WSVRIXLyHICboUL1CV9UoB-c/s1600/P7240715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFukeydJ9dnA-KAnBbHKaTmTP0-sWtM7-uQEBwgznb7_VHdzWtwwJ-3pHYj5J2c9W3h6eR1uWkRKitYjb9CDpIEmNXc_afpcld9pXqmAQcY3sTQMLbX6WSVRIXLyHICboUL1CV9UoB-c/s320/P7240715.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in the day...</td></tr>
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<br />
The visitors' center has really keen souvenirs and a nice snack bar (though they seem to like those white bread/mayo/cheese sandwiches), and I got about three minutes to take a couple pictures in a mock-up of what area housing looked like way back in stony days before I had to be back on the bus.<br />
<br />
Then it was a highway into London and to our hotel. Our tour had come to an end. From then on I was on my own. I'd taken an extra 2 days to see the place.<br />
<br />
I didn't plan so well. That's okay; I've learned my lesson. I'll return someday and see the place proper.<br />
<br />
Now that I was away from the tour I could choose where to eat, and thus had fairly decent food, especially at this one pub about a mile from the hotel. It was Sunday, "roast day" at the pub, and I had roast pork and roast VEGETABLES and ahh! Things would have been perfect if the entire bus hadn't started coughing as we left Stonehenge.<br />
<br />
I stopped at a pharmacy and the clerk called the pharmacist to puzzle out what I needed. A "sachet" was the same as a powder that you add to hot water. (Think Theraflu.) It kept me reasonably healthy except for a runny nose until I hit the plane home, at which point it became a cough until I got home, at which point it became the Black Death.<br />
<br />
But London. Day #1 for me would be Museum Day. I had three, maybe four museums in mind, the least of which was the Victoria & Albert, but it was the closest. Day #2 would be touring the city landmarks.<br />
<br />
The hotel concierge told me that oh no! I did NOT want to take the subway to the V&A. The on-and-off bus was the best choice. They had a special museum route. He got me a ticket (bet he got a considerable percentage, darn his evil soul) and saw me to the bus parked outside of the hotel. I had to make two changes before I got on the proper route.<br />
<br />
It took me THREE HOURS to get to the V&A. It only took fifteen minutes to return on the subway from MUCH farther away. But that was three valuable hours of my touring day! I told that concierge OFF when I got back.<br />
<br />
But in the meantime I did see the underwear exhibit at the V&A that everyone had told me was un-missable. It wasn't. The rest of the museum that I saw as I ran through handled fashion, and I'm CRAZY for fashion! and could have spent my valuable time drooling at that instead of undies, darn it. But at least the museum had a nice cafe, even if they didn't warn me that the odd-colored lemonade had ALCOHOL in it. It wasn't very strong, thank goodness. I was extremely thirsty but still only took a few sips. Why spoil lemonade that has fruit floating in it with alcohol? At least the salad was nice.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdBNbyPSSDtI9sOyqymszN70ZQ9sUYzsvb2s85JDEM9e6P3cpPNHFLvBZY4W-DwDL7O7_ZpMoIilCnCM5uhqSxSUHgpvyXw0mpTcormAdg-YEnSiiF4Oj4N4pNlJZ8xCw-cwgVztuPUQ/s1600/P7250728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdBNbyPSSDtI9sOyqymszN70ZQ9sUYzsvb2s85JDEM9e6P3cpPNHFLvBZY4W-DwDL7O7_ZpMoIilCnCM5uhqSxSUHgpvyXw0mpTcormAdg-YEnSiiF4Oj4N4pNlJZ8xCw-cwgVztuPUQ/s320/P7250728.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">British Museum.</td></tr>
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I took the subway (no fool I) to the British Museum, which isn't that close to the subway, so I got lost a few times walking there. But there I arrived, and WOW! They had stuff from ancient Egypt! Mesopotamia! They had the Elgin Marbles! The Minoans and Mycenneans!<br />
<br />
THEY HAD THE ROSETTA STONE!!!!!<br />
<br />
THE ROSETTA STONE!!!<br />
<br />
Wow wow wow wow wow wow<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF368Zx9APEiZZmh6n2PE-De61xUx3l2BLvkV9FZOccKUlf-bFF6hUpf7uzBhcrr0Ago1KIsNUO7EePUfiXVZH0SjUAFoEKUHurjg4RCloLpg2pCL1NFFcxmBKknEmKY9qTn_283bGJMI/s1600/P7250732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF368Zx9APEiZZmh6n2PE-De61xUx3l2BLvkV9FZOccKUlf-bFF6hUpf7uzBhcrr0Ago1KIsNUO7EePUfiXVZH0SjUAFoEKUHurjg4RCloLpg2pCL1NFFcxmBKknEmKY9qTn_283bGJMI/s320/P7250732.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Achilles killing Penthesilea, while simultaneously falling in love with her. The cad.</td></tr>
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I need to go back and do the museum with some kind of soundtrack telling me what I was looking at. I kept thinking that I had to meet some friends for dinner, and how long would it take me to reach them because I KNEW I'd get lost again.<br />
<br />
So I left sooner than I would have liked. It did take me quite some time to find the right restaurant -- even businesspeople a block away from it had never heard of it -- but I arrived an hour early. The staff let me sit at their farthest outside table to wait, though they didn't understand exactly what was going on and kept asking me if I wanted to order dinner. When the others came in ("That looks like a Rob Rundle," I decided as one man entered the restaurant), the staff didn't bother to tell me that my party had arrived.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBy-PiWlxT4c-n4Tx0RLT3A4olUumxIjRxS8tx4l0XJMi4qLP01Ojxi8gc26aUA9t-eZG855TbutJHroUL2ATqFEyE7U4aLykA8RGA4rgKTm1LWZdOobdEdrpM3E9trvAk0kYTnL6DiU4/s1600/P7250734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBy-PiWlxT4c-n4Tx0RLT3A4olUumxIjRxS8tx4l0XJMi4qLP01Ojxi8gc26aUA9t-eZG855TbutJHroUL2ATqFEyE7U4aLykA8RGA4rgKTm1LWZdOobdEdrpM3E9trvAk0kYTnL6DiU4/s320/P7250734.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let's see. That's Jules Langley, Rob Rundle, me, Jules Clarke, Happy Hass Yusuf, and Gary Hellen. Right?</td></tr>
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But eventually we were all there! We yacked and yacked and I so enjoyed it, despite the food. (I had a great salad, but it was a share-your-food thing and so I couldn't hoard it to myself.) These were Comic Book People, Legion of Super-Heroes fans all and members at some point of various apas, whether the American Interlac or the British Apa-247. (<i>Adventure</i> #247 was the first appearance of the Legion, you know.) Happy Hass Yusuf was the only one whose speech more often delved into unintelligibility, but apparently he was that way with the others as well, so I didn't feel so bad. They got me to write on FB that theirs was by far the superior gathering I had attended, and not the one with Martin and Steven. Hope those boys took it as the joke it was intended!<br />
<br />
All good things and all that, and Jules L. accompanied me back to the subway so I wouldn't get lost and besides, she was going there as well. She explained quite a few things about the Tube and London as we walked.<br />
<br />
The next day was Tour London day. When I'd purchased the on-and-off bus ticket (at 9 AM) the previous day, it was for two days, but the concierge had explained that I had only 24 hours to use the ticket to get a river tour as part of the bargain. I decided what the heck, I'm going to sleep in and miss my "free" ticket. I'd pay for the cruise. I deserved to sleep in once on my trip, didn't I?<br />
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I took the Tube to Westminster. The docks for the river cruises are there, but I went to the bridge first. THERE was St. Thomas' Hospital! Oh boy!<br />
<br />
You see, I had written a Wonder Woman novel and part of it had her riding in the London Eye (there it was, right over there!) when chaos erupts. Bum bum BUUUMM! She breaks open her Eye capsule and runs parallel to the river, then jumps the bridge, while the chaos sets some cars afire in the parking lot behind St. Thomas', and she has to toss them about. I'd Mapquested St. Thomas' and there on my computer screen was the parking lot. Right there. Behind the hospital.<br />
<br />
There was no parking lot.<br />
<br />
Oh, there was one, but it was below ground, under a mini-park complete with trees. There was only a bit exposed to air along the edge. Argh. This would mean rewriting. I took another few billion photos so I could remember the setup when I returned to my computer at home and rewrote the scene. (Actually, it turned out not to need that much of a rewrite, phew!) (And if I'd just switched to Satellite View, I could have seen the setup from the start.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenJGOnxY__jGvmjb5eB7hkuNHyrowyx8DRYIPmXGNTLwqDRlbvfLenhKhhBwGE-7HX1TMf0zpk52dCJm66j5ITWBTIctY3043CiM-Pwo-S34yh5Uocs8URHfq8vhFuyq_R2sr1Gcq-ws/s1600/P7260748.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenJGOnxY__jGvmjb5eB7hkuNHyrowyx8DRYIPmXGNTLwqDRlbvfLenhKhhBwGE-7HX1TMf0zpk52dCJm66j5ITWBTIctY3043CiM-Pwo-S34yh5Uocs8URHfq8vhFuyq_R2sr1Gcq-ws/s320/P7260748.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, it's a little blurry, darn it. I have a nice, sharp picture from another angle, but I like this angle. Besides, you know what it looks like.</td></tr>
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After that I turned around and got to hear Big Ben chime the noon hour on the other side of the bridge. The full monty! Then it was down to buy a ticket -- only to discover that my on-and-off bus ticket did indeed still cover the cost! Yay! Stupid concierge.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimu4pLdJLkuxq61v9peCUrwwEB3uh4-QMpnFzlQdW_ErgckBqr_I5GCeOiT5670uFAW6XLMjFBiw4F1YAVL_yg-WanHeoiXRKG2PN5ZpZN1aVZrIoDRZFJ4SsmRBycWcs2fKsQKZLGwVA/s1600/P7260786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimu4pLdJLkuxq61v9peCUrwwEB3uh4-QMpnFzlQdW_ErgckBqr_I5GCeOiT5670uFAW6XLMjFBiw4F1YAVL_yg-WanHeoiXRKG2PN5ZpZN1aVZrIoDRZFJ4SsmRBycWcs2fKsQKZLGwVA/s320/P7260786.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Globe Theatre</td></tr>
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Very enjoyable cruise! The guide spoke clearly and the sound system was excellent. He also made a lot of good jokes. The most important thing we passed was the Globe Theatre, but both shorelines were full of fascinating sites. We finally came upon the Tower Bridge and Tower itself, and docked. I could have gone on to Greenwich and the Tidal Whatsis that keeps the Thames from going bonkers (I really wanted to see the apparatus, and not just because it had been featured on <i>Dr. Who</i>), but I had just this day to see London.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsz4o9eHqMnAutHiNGX-ZmOXUo9c15i7_CV3Xv6_TIJ3woUpo-o2rQRkT9I1nZXW5ADZmPupFULDyW6eR_5cS19JlR8NuE5jYw2qEjVRzxEgU2OnEqLIevSwGhqNLqnzOM2o9X8n_yqUY/s1600/P7260804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsz4o9eHqMnAutHiNGX-ZmOXUo9c15i7_CV3Xv6_TIJ3woUpo-o2rQRkT9I1nZXW5ADZmPupFULDyW6eR_5cS19JlR8NuE5jYw2qEjVRzxEgU2OnEqLIevSwGhqNLqnzOM2o9X8n_yqUY/s320/P7260804.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tower Bridge</td></tr>
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Rick Steves' tour book warned about the crowds for the Tower. I decided that I really wasn't interested in seeing a bunch of jewels. Instead I found a nice tavern for lunch and had Britain's favorite meal (no lie; statistics prove this), chicken tikka masala. What do you know? The English CAN make a spicy dish. That opened my sinuses! Tasty.<br />
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The day was wearing on. How best to see the sights? Hm. Hm. I get lost so easily... I'd take the on-and-off bus and just sit on top for one full round of the "touristy sites" route. After that I might fit in one or two special visits to whatever looked interesting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQcUQUfO78OGTqz6sTkVQrKqpCQSWteyTh2HWLHvUKR-8Jo4B9dtoBj8a3wjDqkBIKjBqJGA452jQOuzXbVOxA1yPza2b-BC6AIviWMIC7cvFt2GlbinuDvTbD1hVwNrCW7tzrjYilNE/s1600/P7260830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQcUQUfO78OGTqz6sTkVQrKqpCQSWteyTh2HWLHvUKR-8Jo4B9dtoBj8a3wjDqkBIKjBqJGA452jQOuzXbVOxA1yPza2b-BC6AIviWMIC7cvFt2GlbinuDvTbD1hVwNrCW7tzrjYilNE/s320/P7260830.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And yet it never rained, though the skies turned BLACK.</td></tr>
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Someone had told me to take an on-and-off tour, but to avoid the Original Tour like the plague. Guess what I had tickets for? My bus trip to the V&A had consisted of encountering nothing but friendly, obliging bus drivers. When people in wheelchairs got on, they took about twenty minutes to strap every bit of square inch-age of the wheelchair and sitter in. This happened several times; no wonder the buses took so long!<br />
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But that afternoon the driver was silent. There were stops to be made on our maps, but he missed many of them. One he stopped at about a block before the actual stop (there was that much of a line of buses at the actual stop), and I didn't realize that was Our Stop for that site and he wouldn't be stopping any closer. At about 2:30 London traffic just STOPPED. We'd go about five feet and stop. Eventually we'd move forward another five feet and stop. After a while I vowed that I'd get off at the first stop he made that I could determine was near a subway entrance. I knew the buses stopped running at 5:30, and didn't want to get caught on the far side of the city.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPt3Aq-r7ZctOD43r5GNJXbby6xK0vd5Hm3Se0P29gYTYuDi7jBR0vos4log7vRamlXkgdQaQDx4p4Lb6cx5INGaRFiywQuttBSp4cx4DDd30KDR6aA4MGrsHsu3YPY8YmoFWBHyw8bkY/s1600/P7260839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPt3Aq-r7ZctOD43r5GNJXbby6xK0vd5Hm3Se0P29gYTYuDi7jBR0vos4log7vRamlXkgdQaQDx4p4Lb6cx5INGaRFiywQuttBSp4cx4DDd30KDR6aA4MGrsHsu3YPY8YmoFWBHyw8bkY/s320/P7260839.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Couldn't get the timing right to catch shots of the REAL rush hour. Imagine about three times more people than this on the same amount of acreage. "Mass of humanity" = one large mass.</td></tr>
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London was all starting to run together. We didn't get many "good" views of important landmarks, when indeed we came upon any. I missed the experience of a focused tour, with commentary I could concentrate on. The best I could do now was to get my exhausted self off at the Tower, a full circle. The time was about 5:00. I got lost finding the Tube entrance, but did find it eventually and went back to the hotel. There was a shopping center a few blocks from there and I decided to treat myself to a fancy dinner at Jaime Oliver's place there. Ugh. What a dump.<br />
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But London was done. Got up at dawn the next day and... well, the story of the trip back was in the introduction to all this tour stuff, right? Got home and collapsed for a day, getting sicker and sicker, and then on Friday was inundated with contractors doing their thang at my house.<br />
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What did I learn? Well, I'd like to go back to Scotland to toodle around leisurely and enjoy all the beauty, maybe with an easel by my side. I definitely NEED to go back to London because I missed so much. This time I'll plan for four full days there. I'll schedule a targeted tour, like the Harry Potter tour or a palaces tour, that kind of thing, for mornings, break for lunch and then hit at least one museum (I won't miss the Tate this time!) each day. If I have time for a minor museum afterward, so much better. It will be leisurely and there'll be lots of time to choose nice restaurants and tea rooms.<br />
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I've spoken a lot about how rushed bus tours are, but they're splendid at getting a quick overview of an area so you can tell what's worth coming back for. Now and then along the tour, I'd pause and ask William, my previous life who'd joined the Navy to see the world only to be stuck in a cramped submarine during WWII, where he died (I wrote two recent blogs about the past-life regression; check 'em out), if he was happy to see the world through my eyes. I got the impression that it would do fairly well. And of course, just last Saturday, a psychic told me that my soul job was to study cosmic cultures and report back to the "creator-god." I'm sure that entity will read this blog and add to the report.<br />
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I WILL be coming back for more British goodness someday. WHEN is that movie deal coming through? I'll need the cash to ride in First Class.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-8906443137794983602016-08-29T20:37:00.000-04:002016-08-30T14:42:20.125-04:00O ye'll take the high road, and I'll take the low road…All this will likely not be in order unless I really check the numbers on the photos or the tour description. These are days 5-6 of the tour, plus a bit of #7.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6R_sRn76rKqjDlBlY5N_yLWDWyFI8-GAYALmsA5IGY6qaH_Tu_ZPZ83i90gMgU_du3_oVzgvAoVH2e07XahQHGMHbQ0fxoaCsEemzuU3Sq9O_plf1BiL_YLL5jfhL-f305cfMS5FcOI/s1600/kevin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6R_sRn76rKqjDlBlY5N_yLWDWyFI8-GAYALmsA5IGY6qaH_Tu_ZPZ83i90gMgU_du3_oVzgvAoVH2e07XahQHGMHbQ0fxoaCsEemzuU3Sq9O_plf1BiL_YLL5jfhL-f305cfMS5FcOI/s320/kevin.jpg" width="202" /></a></div>
<span style="text-align: center;">Speaking of photos, let's begin with a nice one. I believe this gentleman's name was Kevin MacDonald, and we met him when we visited Stirling Castle. Well, not quite Stirling Castle. (Part of some of the oddities of the Trafalgar Tour were that they were more interested in timetables than touring, and touring Stirling Castle was something our schedule couldn't fit in, though we were RIGHT THERE.)</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">We were going to eat as a group in a restaurant just next to Stirling. Kevin met us and, after letting most of the ladies in our group have their pictures taken with him, gave a little talk about the place and how it was connected with William Wallace (the Battle of Stirling Bridge and the Battle of Bannockburn, both so emphasized in that <i>British History for Dummies</i> book I'd read. Hillary waved in the general direction of the countryside as we drove back down the mount. The historic sites were somewhere out there), and then walked us down to the restaurant, playing the bagpipe.</span><br />
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After we'd eaten, here came Kevin into our cramped parlor and began to play the bagpipes! It was EXCRUCIATINGLY LOUD!!! I dug into my purse for the ear plugs I'd brought for use on the plane over, but those plugs -- even with Amazon top-ratings -- did little to dim the sound. The poor people sitting even closer than me were holding their ears, except for the ones who were wasted.<br />
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After that he gave a bio of Rabby Burns and then recited a lengthy if edited version of "Tam o'Shanter," chewing every bit of scenery he could. Tremendous!<br />
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I was disappointed that we couldn't see the William Wallace memorial up close (it was visible on its hilltop a bit away from us), but also was curious to see the statue of him done up as Mel Gibson in <i>Braveheart</i>. But according to all-knowing Wiki: "The statue was deeply unpopular, being described as 'among the most loathed pieces of public art in Scotland' and was regularly vandalized before being placed in a cage to prevent further damage. Plans to expand the visitor centre [at the memorial], including a new restaurant and reception, led to the unpopular statue's removal in 2008."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkdzcpf1v5DnAxR6o41rvyDjHMO-AgmHPnputqgV7B_nI5mdse12gwlU_ShFUWk1IpbLTnbM7nmspeZcQBKnG28GEbbl2BAedmJuw6Kd2171qsRQ9suoentdVDCokQS91vqJf2NNmXVM/s1600/braveheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkdzcpf1v5DnAxR6o41rvyDjHMO-AgmHPnputqgV7B_nI5mdse12gwlU_ShFUWk1IpbLTnbM7nmspeZcQBKnG28GEbbl2BAedmJuw6Kd2171qsRQ9suoentdVDCokQS91vqJf2NNmXVM/s320/braveheart.jpg" width="202" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THIS will scare the English out of Scotland!</td></tr>
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Back to the beginning of Day #5...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bit drizzly. That's the North Sea there.</td></tr>
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St. Andrews was just above Edinburgh, and it was not only raining but thundering as we drove through. We stopped at the clubhouse of the historic golf course. You could see the North Sea just over there. I wanted to run over just to dip my toes into it to say I had been there, but I'm a good North Carolina girl and here if we're on a golf course and we hear thunder, we head inside. Even so, I think NC is #2 in the US for people getting hit by lightning.<br />
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We visited a whisky manufacturer, a family-run affair. Because of the rain, the stream that ran the equipment was threatening to overflow, but it made for pretty pictures. The process was interesting enough, and at the end they gave everyone but me drinks for a toast, and then led us into their little shop for large purchase and small. (Of course I ran into sharp criticism again about not drinking.)<br />
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These were terribly, terribly narrow country roads we were traveling. We SQUEEZED through a few turns in the middle of nowhere, and on occasion gave Paul, our driver, a round of applause for accomplishing the seemingly impossible. We visited a farm (actually, this was after Gretna Green, but I'm going to leave it here) for supposedly lunch, and discovered it was actually just tea. No one else thought the food was anything but good, but I thought it was pretty awful. I just hated to think that because the lady had made it herself. But this is her business: to feed the tourists as they come around. They served 1"-wide ribbons (no crust) of "sandwiches" with white bread, mayo and cheese, and maybe one kind had a few morsels of chicken on it. Then there were little finger desserts that didn't taste like anything except sugar. At least the tea was good.<br />
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Speaking of tea, the place had two outdoor toilets, looking like overgrown portalets. We made a line, and I was second in for the one on the right. The guy who went in ahead of me couldn't keep the door shut, so I made sure I shut it well when I went in. What had been his problem? I locked it because you go in such a thing, you lock it. Did my business, went to unlock the door… And it wouldn't unlock!<br />
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<b>I WAS LOCKED IN THE LOO!</b><br />
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I WAS GOING TO DIE IN A LOO!<br />
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I turned that knob every which way I could, and shouted at the people outside of my situation. They shouted back instructions on how to unlock. Finally, after doing the same thing I'd been doing, the door unlocked. Whew! Of course no one else had any problems with it.<br />
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Must have been gremlins, I tell you.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Through the clouds, Ben Nevis rises to 4400 feet.</td></tr>
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Somewhere in here we arrived at the Commando Memorial at Spean Bridge. The statue of the Green Berets that trained in the area during WWII faces Ben Nevis, which is the UK's highest mountain and was unfortunately socked in with clouds so we couldn't see it.<br />
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Eventually the sun came out and we wound up around Fort William or thereabouts, where we had time enough to find a very nice lunch. (British food is fairly fine as long as you're allowed to look for a good place yourself, though veggies were still rare.) Fort William was charming, and we took a look at the Caledonian Canal, which stretches 60 miles from Loch Linnhe in the southwest to Inverness, on a bay of the North Sea.<br />
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We went to Neptune's Staircase, which is a series of nine locks. There was a Hogwarts-type railroad running nearby for the tourists, and the neighboring village was so pretty I asked Hillary how house prices ran in this area. I mean, retirement's not far away. She assured me that homes were sky-high high in those parts. Too bad!<br />
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Glencoe is the site of a horrible <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Massacre_of_Glencoe" target="_blank">massacre.</a> My book and our tourist guide said it was another Highland clan, the Campbells, who killed the MacDonalds on orders from the new king. Yet I just watched a TV travelogue that said it was "redcoats" what done it. Well, check out the Wiki version, which seems a little of both.<br />
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But Glencoe itself is a lovely valley and then you drive into this GORGEOUS country of very high hills and waterfalls and people hiking everywhere! It's absolutely fabulous. I think it even has some hot springs. It made even me want to get off the bus, don some sturdy boots and my walking stick, and start strolling!<br />
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The other side of the mountains is pretty dreary, though.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loch Lomond, the inn on the untravelled side.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took a half-billion pictures for the rock formations and the cloud shadows.</td></tr>
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From there we visited Loch Lomond, where we had a nice boat tour of the lake. Lovely high hills lead down into it, and I think that one side, which houses an older hotel, isn't served by regular roads. Our captain named a couple movies that had been made in the area, with scenes shot at the waterfall beside the hotel. I wasn't familiar with them.<br />
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Along a narrow local highway somewhere during this time the bus stopped so we could carefully troop out to a lake's edge and take some shots of Ardverikie Castle, which was used (among other media) in the BBC's <i>Monarch of the Glen</i> as Glenbogle. I'll have to check Netflix to see if it's available there.<br />
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Let's see. Stirling is close to Glasgow, so we must have taken those in that order. Glasgow had an interesting downtown in that any city's downtown is interesting, but I don't recall that much about it except that Robert almost got lost again, 70 feet from the bus. Hm. I think it was there that I saw the TARDIS.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Have I mentioned the STUPENDOUS room I had at the golf resort? iIrc, it was in the Stirling area. Too bad I was only conscious for about an hour in it. And that it didn't have air conditioning. I suppose perfection isn't possible. Bathroom's on your right; closet's on the left. Massive bedroom is straight ahead.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jedburgh Abbey. They didn't have to open their windows at night and hope for a breeze.</td></tr>
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Jedburgh: We got about 20 minutes to use the bathroom and check out the ruined abbey there, which we couldn't go into because it cost money (and time).<br />
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Finally in Scotland was Gretna Green, which I was really looking forward to. I read a LOT of Regency romances, and people in those are always trotting off to Gretna Green, which was just north of the border, to be married when they can't find a way to get married down London-way. In Gretna you could just show up at, say, a blacksmith's forge and he'd marry you off as long as you could scrounge up some witnesses. Scottish law allowed it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_05L_rNM81YcBtd84BSEu7PFlJPlhEX2gdSfwKN2KR17UFhyzJRp9X5FfNPr_t6vY_-wSB-P5TvtrpQToUTJNGZBtMoXfg44nfpDn0s0w4NCj-ysrGmcMNBXa_WK4isFjbUKZkLGJcGo/s1600/sob-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_05L_rNM81YcBtd84BSEu7PFlJPlhEX2gdSfwKN2KR17UFhyzJRp9X5FfNPr_t6vY_-wSB-P5TvtrpQToUTJNGZBtMoXfg44nfpDn0s0w4NCj-ysrGmcMNBXa_WK4isFjbUKZkLGJcGo/s320/sob-L.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The billboard I most remember (besides the one that gave the weather report: Chili today; hot tamale!) was the one that advertised the hotel at SotB as having "Heir Conditioned" rooms. Perfect for Gretna!</td></tr>
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I was expecting a South of the Border-type tourist display, full of gaudy goodness. Gretna Green: North of the Border! (Pedro -- yes, I know he's completely un-PC, but his billboards are everywhere up and down I-95 -- is in South Carolina, just across the NC line.) Instead we visited a sedate shopping complex with a mousy museum (which you had to pay extra for) at the end. Nothing was worth taking a picture. I'm afraid what impressed me most about the place was the ladies' room.<br />
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You see, I'd been trying out black pudding that morning and the one before. "This is really, really bland sausage," I decided. My body hates sausage, but this seemed safe enough. Day #2 and my body rebelled. Quite suddenly. "Which way's the bathroom?" I yelled as we pulled into the parking space and I jumped off the bus.<br />
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The rest room must have had thirty-five stalls. No waiting! Afterward, I thought it was funny because Gretna would be a very female-centric place, so it was good they accommodated them.<br />
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Which reminds me: we stopped at one "service" (they call rest stops "service" on highway signs) that had a good 18 parking slots for buses. Inside the travel plaza was a number of fast-food restaurants, two Starbucks (I kid you not) (one was a regular Starbucks place and the other was hot drinks only), another brand coffee cafe, the ubiquitous video parlor, a travel electronics store… and a ladies' room that must have had sixty stalls! There was a guy inside helping a female employee direct traffic. (Signs warned of his presence.) For that one you had to wait, but the line moved VERY quickly thanks to the loo cops.<br />
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Speaking of bathrooms, and this blog seems inordinately obsessed with them (as one is when on a bus trip), I discovered a new system of toilet paper dispensing: like those small, square kleenex boxes, only on its side, affixed to a stall wall. You pluck one sheet at a time. You know something? I think it makes a LOT of sense, especially in a public venue, as it keeps things neater than usual.<br />
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ALL public bathrooms in the UK used those air dryers. I thought <i>Mythbusters</i> had proven that paper towels were more hygienic?<br />
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My point? What was my point? Oh, right: Gretna Green needs to be more showy. As in: show a little tastelessness! Have some fun with the concept!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinosaurs never hurt sales either! Imagine Nessie paying Gretna Green a visit. Tourist heaven!</td></tr>
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And that was Scotland. Darn my note-taking anyway! I know I missed some good stuff, but hopefully have made up for it with pics.<br />
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Next: Back to England and then… London!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525213022142900255.post-3287001133888884782016-08-26T09:30:00.001-04:002016-10-08T11:16:15.487-04:00A Fling in the Highlands!<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sorry for the delay. I was busy getting a book and two paintings to places they were expected, getting ready to buy a new car... Meanwhile, back at my UK trip:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Northern England had become hilly and farmland was broken into a patchwork of stone wall-bordered plots. We paused at the border (where a bagpiper was playing in the parking lot, natch) and then moved along through a definite piedmont with very high hills and deep valleys. There were no walls to separate farm lots except the occasional hedge, and everything stretched green, green, green.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">With LOTS of sheep.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCUe-iyh_FnRR94BCeDWFtSuuj1RKqSaRUaIpkxbQwb9-8f0Bhtg6b6ZPppinsf1J-qv35g1TOhVYJwaRR2GDKYfFIVMb4G22EIUx1TbZR-sVNhXpNc3ULMb-7x2ZL7drc58-shHjTEA/s1600/P7180187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCUe-iyh_FnRR94BCeDWFtSuuj1RKqSaRUaIpkxbQwb9-8f0Bhtg6b6ZPppinsf1J-qv35g1TOhVYJwaRR2GDKYfFIVMb4G22EIUx1TbZR-sVNhXpNc3ULMb-7x2ZL7drc58-shHjTEA/s320/P7180187.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the scene on our side of the road when we stopped for the truck fire. I know there's a painting somewhere in this series. I took LOTS of pics of sheep for future reference purposes.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As I mentioned, the bus usually took us down non-highway routes. It was along such that we encountered traffic coming to a complete stop though we were in the middle of nowhere. Ahead of us in the other lane stood a burning log truck. The explanation: "The driver went to do a wee and when he turned around there was smoke coming out of his lorry." Ouch. No one likes it when smoke comes out of their lorries. The translation: Apparently the driver had gotten out to have a little rest stop out there in the open but to the side of the road, and when he turned back to his truck, discovered it was quite on fire.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Traffic in both directions came to a halt and we had to wait until the fire and police folks came out. They got traffic moving very quickly, leaving one embarrassed fellow next to his truck awaiting a tow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We crested one very high ridge and I could see the ocean. Or rather, the Firth of Forth. The Forth is a river, and a "firth" is an estuary, or place where a river flows into the sea. It's a type of bay with a river flowing into one side.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We soon arrived at Edinburgh, which our driver pronounced as "ed in bra." What Ed was doing in that bra I'll never know. We took a quickie tour of the town in the bus and then headed off to our hotel. My room was lovely (if outlet-deprived, as all UK hotels are), with three large windows along one wall that I could open so as to let whatever breeze I could find in so I wouldn't have to die in my sleep from heat stroke. It also let in the announcements from the train station right across the street and down a cliff, as well as noise from the street and drunks. Luckily for me, Edinburgh seems to roll up the sidewalks (and trains) before midnight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next morning we were up bright and early for a half-day of touring Edinburgh's castle. If we'd come a month later we might see the Tattoo, which they were setting up for. That has nothing to do with ink, but is rather a festival with lots of martial bands and pipers and horses, as well as fireworks. When we arrived, only the stands were in place around a central plaza.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPSXB7onFyfuW4BxuRQh9leC7sHTbcrvZgzwuG5mCtLbzZMr9x0LSuMK_jSuh1GXPlwqnsGz8QIfpZfNsxAiy8ABHg7CZgY5yH-tfhyphenhyphenhk4DHT6fQOndzgLcAClboYA357txjg14NBHOU/s1600/IMG_0146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPSXB7onFyfuW4BxuRQh9leC7sHTbcrvZgzwuG5mCtLbzZMr9x0LSuMK_jSuh1GXPlwqnsGz8QIfpZfNsxAiy8ABHg7CZgY5yH-tfhyphenhyphenhk4DHT6fQOndzgLcAClboYA357txjg14NBHOU/s320/IMG_0146.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the castle... ramparts, I guess. As any <i>Gilmore Girls</i> fan can tell you, the person who has the high ground, wins. Actually, the first time this castle was taken, waaaaay back when, it was torn completely down except for the chapel (iIrc) so the English couldn't use it. That's the Firth of Forth up there.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The castle was a solid tourism spot, full of stone stairs, a 900-year-old chapel, the Stone of Scone (just recently stolen back from the conniving English scum), the birth room of James VI (Mary, Queen of Scots was his mum), crown jewels, dungeons, and varied museums. One could easily spend most of a day here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But I had friends to meet! I saw the highlights, forgot about the dungeons which had been recommended to me by our local guide, and took off down the Royal Mile back to the hotel. Martin Gray and Steven Robinson, stalwart heroes they, picked me up there and we were off! They had taken off from work just to take me around. Aww!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let me digress a moment. On the whole, bus tours are only a step or two better than watching a travelogue on TV. You sit on the bus and the country passes outside your window. Now and then you get out and have an hour to walk about at a particular site. You don't usually get the in-depth commentary a TV show provides.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But these were Edinburghers. Or Leithers. The cities have merged over the years, like Chapel Hill/Carrboro or Raleigh/Cary/Durham. They knew their area in a different way from guides. As we set off we passed darling neighborhoods and business districts. Then we arrived at the <i>Britannia</i>, the retired Royal Yacht, and saw EVERYTHING. By this time my camera had pooped out, though I thought it didn't do that until the next day, but anyway, I discovered when I got home that I'd only taken a couple shots that day -- and it was the BEST DAY OF THE TOUR!! Arrggh!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Always, ALWAYS recharge your camera at night while on tour. Always have it with you! I'd become too accustomed to being able to go a couple months without recharging. On tour you're always turning your camera off and on and fiddling with the focus and... This takes power.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The <i>Britannia</i> had a contest in which they had nautical-dressed teddy bears secreted here and there. You were supposed to spot as many as you could and at the end of the tour report to someone and see if you'd won a prize for finding them all.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRn8t7O7hzWGdqYgGBugRVs7FTkg5zFT92Qm95t2P167BUuxfSMnADIlIudQK7VfeBW6PZVoJTVK2vMq_2mFfHm2rEcSmCjzE1fHBwhHhIrLUFBhc9enwty8mTS9Pvv5e7DZmq5HQSy1c/s1600/Martin-and-Steve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRn8t7O7hzWGdqYgGBugRVs7FTkg5zFT92Qm95t2P167BUuxfSMnADIlIudQK7VfeBW6PZVoJTVK2vMq_2mFfHm2rEcSmCjzE1fHBwhHhIrLUFBhc9enwty8mTS9Pvv5e7DZmq5HQSy1c/s320/Martin-and-Steve.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Martin and Steven, Edinburgh's Dynamic Duo!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8d-J7pVrHF59tOuhYzUhij2xbMCUAdDG6kRzbLsox5RDUUJnwKjc1NGgZoxu1wNCZjEec4l79nd1V-LB6e5Palwmsq6bMwcBhXHjScvGGDunDhxnfHIVjqHriaFeXxLEY37YeV6PhSs/s1600/steve-yacht.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8d-J7pVrHF59tOuhYzUhij2xbMCUAdDG6kRzbLsox5RDUUJnwKjc1NGgZoxu1wNCZjEec4l79nd1V-LB6e5Palwmsq6bMwcBhXHjScvGGDunDhxnfHIVjqHriaFeXxLEY37YeV6PhSs/s320/steve-yacht.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, Steve and I were really there. I was trying to look cool. Ah, you see the phone is out instead of my camera. When I got home, I discovered that my computer is too old to really interconnect with my new phone, so I had to take screenshots of what was on the phone. Most of these E'burgh shots came from Martin and Steven's phones, and they were kind enough to send them to me.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We lost count. There was too much to see. (And I was doing my best to appear witty. This takes concentration.) I was surprised at how bland (and yet in spots ostentatious) the royal living/entertaining quarters were. Then again, everything Mid-Century registers as Bland in my head. The crew were stuffed into semi-tiny quarters and of course they had boiler rooms and laundry with zero air conditioning, so life must have been pretty awful for people in those positions. Otoh, there were lots of photos on display of the crew having a swell ol' time doing team sports stuff about the ship. And since they were all young men in excellent condition, the photos were another perk of the tour.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">From there we went to fetch some more converters for me, since the one I'd brought wasn't doing too well. (Not its fault, but rather the horribly-installed outlets in the hotels.) The new ones gave me several to experiment with and eventually I got everything recharged well. There are tricks involved. At the same shopping mall we hit a pizzeria/Italian place for late lunch. What lovely conversation! I had very little trouble understanding my Scots friends, even when Steve said, "The camel always bleem twice." I made sure he didn't see me writing that down, but I swear, that's what he said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before I'd left, someone had warned me about public loos and how they often had no toilet paper. What? Pshaw. Yet here at this modern, spacious pizzeria, I discovered that their ladies' room had none, not even a holder. I thought perhaps I just didn't understand this long box in my stall and it was hidden somewhere inside it, but I encountered the same type of box a few times elsewhere, and the toilet paper holders were located at another place inside the stall. ??? Yeesh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm mixing up the order here, but not much. We passed Mart's apartment -- I discovered that he has two roommates, and neither of them was Steve. Our valiant Scotsmen knew I was keen on seeing Roman ruins, so they motored us to a little spot that has some stones in the ground and historical markers from where a small Roman army had housed themselves back before the Romans pulled out of the area. Cool!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RabyIEph-u77-r9-LHPhvSzpgVxmSFjjVww5U2Lzk5GR2xpcRnRbZTyQrrOcKKkr1P_5ZkeofKjb133KldM29NJxC9y7KpJf4WuPI4C9-8FDY1AponANNcELGay6Hp4iXvIzdP84Gqo/s1600/roman-ruins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RabyIEph-u77-r9-LHPhvSzpgVxmSFjjVww5U2Lzk5GR2xpcRnRbZTyQrrOcKKkr1P_5ZkeofKjb133KldM29NJxC9y7KpJf4WuPI4C9-8FDY1AponANNcELGay6Hp4iXvIzdP84Gqo/s320/roman-ruins.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mart and I at the Roman ruins. Since this is north of Hadrian's Wall, it would be older than that. People have had a lot longer to cart all the stones from the site. They overlooked a few.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">From there it was a short walk -- actually, rather long, if you realize I'd been walking since 7:30 that morning. I racked up over 20,000 steps that day! -- to the "beach," or edge of the river which did indeed seem beachy. Though a workday, there were lots of people out enjoying the day, kicking balls, eating ice cream, and making an awful mess in the public ladies' room. I was allowed (thank you!) to sit on a bench and utterly enjoy the scene.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then it was back to the car. Just before this, Steve had made a turn to get us to our destination. It was one of those typical two-way streets without parking spots on either side, which meant there was an almost solid line of cars parked on either side of the road, half-in and half-out, transforming it into a one-way street. Cars pulled over as they could to let cars coming from the opposite direction through.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We started to pass an apartment building's parking lot. A car zipped out of it right in front of us. Steve hit the brakes hard! Phew, accident averted. As he was still stopped, the car decided that it wanted to go backward so it could go back into the lot. ((meep)) went Steve's car's horn as BUMP! the guy backed RIGHT INTO US!!!! (Despite me using my telekinesis at full power!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mart and I were having conniptions. I was in shock. I mean, we were RIGHT THERE. There was no way the guy could have missed seeing us! Steve got out, the guy got out, and I had Judge Judy thoughts: road rage! The guy would pull a gun on Steve!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But no, they talked a moment or two, both peered at Steve's front bumper and the guy's back one, and then both returned to their cars. The guy returned to the parking lot. Steve said the guy claimed that there was something wrong with his kid, so he was anxious about getting something something, which is why he drove the way he did. "No major damage," Steve reported.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Actually, there were a couple of small dents. Steve was completely cool about the whole thing. There had been no exchange of insurance info, etc. No cops. !!!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1VknHGDQOyxh-DlC6HfXTGYsc_0HpHJsc_GiQPs4uiMS_tYnX4Jpur3J4-OFWiOO9Bm3oseqjwK_zamvQXTCRDv1z343giWEbIpBSPC77rGQtiu9Hq6-_ZN3Ehg0jn2B6TZO9ZkNr7-k/s1600/front-of-building2FP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1VknHGDQOyxh-DlC6HfXTGYsc_0HpHJsc_GiQPs4uiMS_tYnX4Jpur3J4-OFWiOO9Bm3oseqjwK_zamvQXTCRDv1z343giWEbIpBSPC77rGQtiu9Hq6-_ZN3Ehg0jn2B6TZO9ZkNr7-k/s320/front-of-building2FP.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drat, it's not showing up. I'll try to remember to fix this tonight if I can recall which picture it is. Oh right, it's the awful new Parliament building. Too awful for Blogspot to show, apparently. Wait, I'll Google and here it is. If I can remember, I'll add my own shot below.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">From the ruins we went back to Edinburgh proper and (this might have been before) the boys gave me a driving tour of the awful new Parliament building (it really is atrocious, and it was designed by a Spaniard instead of a proper Scot) and Hollyrood, which is a palace right below Arthur's Seat, which is this big ol' mini-mountain sitting at the edge of the city, akin to Montreal's mont. Some road was closing just as we were arriving, so we couldn't drive up to see whatever they wanted to see.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But now we're back to being after the ruins. We found a parking spot near High Street (which I kept thinking was the famous Prince's Street, but that's a block or so over), which has the Royal Mile. It runs from Hollyrood up to the castle. We went in search of Edinburgh's Ghost Tour, which starts aboveground with stories of how the city used to be quite the scary place. Once again (popular UK stories) I was told that "loo" comes from "l'eau" (water), which is what the natives called the night slops that were tossed out onto the street in the morning. "Gardez l'eau!" (look out for the water) became "Gardy loo!" Drunks just becoming semi-ambulatory in the early morning, walking about and thus facing the onslaught were "shit-faced" because they looked up to mumble, "Whuh?" Splat!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then we moved into the foundations of a not-so-old bridge. It had been designed so that businesses could be established on top, while the arches and such below could be used for storage. Only thing: the waters from above leaked through the stonework, leaving the chambers soggy. As conditions worsened topside and the law drove the poor out of the streets, they began to live in the chambers, where no law reached. Conditions and society were terrible there, and the waste that came through the walls added to the general sickness experienced by the inhabitants.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Our guide showed us through a little museum of torture devices, giving gory details of just how they were applied and what the effects were. Then we went into this one room. The city had invited Wiccans in to clear the bad spirits that had been reported. The Wiccans eventually abandoned it, but set up a ring of stones and salt to imprison one very evil essence they had encountered. (There's a current coven meeting place a few rooms down.)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCWcJeWL64rOijWdszIK2L-apCR0UKoF-K-bp4P9We2dMs-fwvCsvhm5Xa75hY1lGBhlaDFfHhDcWZsMNd9dVRuqNn81or81lMTP8ekEXCpaDvpyfIbxglqC2D_RUYqyYcMmXZGj8jPR4/s1600/ghost-tour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCWcJeWL64rOijWdszIK2L-apCR0UKoF-K-bp4P9We2dMs-fwvCsvhm5Xa75hY1lGBhlaDFfHhDcWZsMNd9dVRuqNn81or81lMTP8ekEXCpaDvpyfIbxglqC2D_RUYqyYcMmXZGj8jPR4/s320/ghost-tour.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guess the hoodoo didn't work on this shot?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Our guide said that many who had dared to step into the circle had encountered bad luck (broken bones, etc) soon afterward. Of course a bunch of kids had to step into it. He also said that pictures taken across the circle would turn out blank.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mart took a picture of our guide across the circle. When we were in the hall outside, he checked it. It showed up a moment… then blanked. "What?" He tried looking at it again and again, and each time it blanked after a moment. A girl next to us said she'd seen that trick before and it was Photoshopped. "But I just took the picture!" Mart retorted, but she had none of it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I made the mistake of brushing up against a wall. Ugh, it was slimy! And it was the first wearing of that particular blouse. Then the water dripping out of the ceiling caught me. Ick!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'd hate to have lived anywhere near that bridge back during the bad times, but the worst thing about it these days was the final step in and out of the place. Really, they could have put down one or two extra wooden steps to help people in. I think that's how the one guy who stepped into the circle broke his leg. No, nobody on our tour. Some other tour. Mart said he'd contact the tour company and tell them that they should do it for minimum safety standards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We went to the Tolbooth [sic] Tavern for dinner. (Yes, we washed our hands first!) What a lovely place, so friendly! My friends joked with the waiter about me never having had haggis, and I relented to a sample. I don't see what the big deal is. It tastes like liver pudding, but lighter. They mix oatmeal or something into it so it's not so dense. It would make a good cracker spread. But Steve ordered a "Scottish Tower," I think it was called (darn me for throwing out my receipts! If you look up my review on TripAdvisor, you'll see the proper name). That's tatties (potatoes) on the bottom, haggis in the middle, and neeps (turnips) on the top, under the sprig of rosemary and the Scottish flag. Steven was kind enough to give me the actual, real, crunchy salad that surrounded the concoction. The belly back there under the Superman symbol belongs to Martin. Hi, Martin's belly!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">What fun the day had been! How lovely it is to tour with such splendid chaps as Martin and Steven! Thanks, guys!!!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrxuABwKLOVeWk1darVzxhLlgqCemyEtMwVnWs3iMWjs4poRfEunUnQACKvzGX7C2gFZ_-YI0VSVsobqOB62FtM5DQA9od8TdY-XcI9OoR9ffFYA-Es1b0f85qY4xdiuLPyFIS7S6J0A/s1600/Screen-Shot-2016-08-02-at-5.20.38-PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrxuABwKLOVeWk1darVzxhLlgqCemyEtMwVnWs3iMWjs4poRfEunUnQACKvzGX7C2gFZ_-YI0VSVsobqOB62FtM5DQA9od8TdY-XcI9OoR9ffFYA-Es1b0f85qY4xdiuLPyFIS7S6J0A/s320/Screen-Shot-2016-08-02-at-5.20.38-PM.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uh. Is this the back of the castle? It was on the other side of the train station as we toured our final Edinburgh day. Anyway, there are several hill-topping castle-like features in Edinburgh, but the thing that caught most people's attention was the private school that inspired Hogwart's. JD Rowling lives in Edinburgh, you see. Lots of guides mentioned the Hogwart's school to us.</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next day we got a tiny tour of the "New Town," I think, just before it began to rain. Then it was off across the Firth to the High<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">lands! This is mountainous territory -- low mountains -- and knock-your-socks-off gorgeous. It reminds me of Montana before Montana turns into full mountains, only these hills are heavily forested and there are cute stone villages here and there. Maybe the Appalachian foothills would be a better comparison.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was one long stretch of boring road, but we stopped along it at a farm. I had paid for this extra, but others had not. As the bus pulled away with them, they later reported that all of us on the mini-tour were just standing, hands on hips, looking off in the distance. Then ALL OF A SUDDEN comes this flock of sheep, running toward us hell-bent for leather!!!! And then behind them appears a border collie, chasing them like the very devil!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">A sheep farmer was demonstrating his border collies' abilities for us. Some of you may know that my favorite dog is the border collie. This guy had about seven of them with him, and used a flock of about… oh, how many sheep are there in the shots? -- that many to demonstrate the dogs one at a time. He also had about seven ten-month puppies, and one of them wanted SO BADLY to join the adults at what they were doing! He'd pace around and stop and watch, then pace and see how close he could get to the adults without being reprimanded.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">They had something like 3000 sheep on this farm and 20 collies. The farmer told us that it actually costs a little more to shear the sheep than it does for what they get for the wool. They only shear them for health reasons. The wool usually winds up being sent to China for use as insulation.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">The farmer grabbed one full-grown sheep and told us it was a lamb as it was only a year and a half old. Looked like an adult to me. Anyway, the lamb had never been sheared, and now the farmer did it, manually, and invited those who wanted to to help.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">Then we saw the puppies! I mean, the 10-day-old puppies whose eyes had just opened within the past twelve hours! Eee! Hillary (our guide) had to body-search one lady to make sure she didn't smuggle a puppy back onto the bus when we left.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UKxKxY59ZHXRuUqoY7LE8aVIzzBqEK-ixbn02Pp5Cd7TkxSk-RIVgueKCzDOlTcl6b72GmFeRdhD1FGmNmuFpHfDxe1l2SWtLsSCagdbI9J6qOggQtjfZFt5CIFhTGWq5H4lft6gWdQ/s1600/P7200267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UKxKxY59ZHXRuUqoY7LE8aVIzzBqEK-ixbn02Pp5Cd7TkxSk-RIVgueKCzDOlTcl6b72GmFeRdhD1FGmNmuFpHfDxe1l2SWtLsSCagdbI9J6qOggQtjfZFt5CIFhTGWq5H4lft6gWdQ/s320/P7200267.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's the year-old pup on the left.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcfg7739Wg0jXWeeJnMmoMQhLpwDY1q62d6hyvNKn55ZgFDSMGC5YhkJiLcKNfoAwX8VzIbtHDHC7y2S-hk5vUsw82vMpft8Fg-g1_-tWCxaQ5LWesQksu4F0a7hVmK_7P29JpJccSNg/s1600/P7200283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcfg7739Wg0jXWeeJnMmoMQhLpwDY1q62d6hyvNKn55ZgFDSMGC5YhkJiLcKNfoAwX8VzIbtHDHC7y2S-hk5vUsw82vMpft8Fg-g1_-tWCxaQ5LWesQksu4F0a7hVmK_7P29JpJccSNg/s320/P7200283.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguC_rvQ9ZDfgS19IUWjjEF7y5IHm69N7RbKthu7oOXlp3cn97zJMtK62F9u12gNynUC7r50PiChWSymtLTaYYtZmOziOy5O30bEcl57L469xQqMc0n-1PoSXzJObZjw2DLMFZWFfmh9r0/s1600/P7200289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguC_rvQ9ZDfgS19IUWjjEF7y5IHm69N7RbKthu7oOXlp3cn97zJMtK62F9u12gNynUC7r50PiChWSymtLTaYYtZmOziOy5O30bEcl57L469xQqMc0n-1PoSXzJObZjw2DLMFZWFfmh9r0/s320/P7200289.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 19px;">Think I'll leave it there. The rest should take up about two parts (maybe three with leftovers), which I'll try to have presented next week. See you then!</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0