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May 2007
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Marriott Hotel, San Jose Costa Rica
So here is a Miss Behaved travel tip: Spend your first night at the Big-American hotel. Big American Hotels have shuttles from the airport, the staff speaks English and the rooms and amenities are very comfortable. Plan on spending the most you will spend the whole trip on the first meal of the trip because you don’t know any better. Get over it and hand over the charge card.
Lush is a very good word to describe my initial impression of Costa Rica. The damp air is welcome after the dryness of the airplane I love this kind of moisture. The Marriott is adjacent to a golf course, as I enjoy the view and the mountain that resemble our own Mayacam Range, I see that a small community of homes are being built within sight of the Marriott. I love the style of course, but I imagine these homes are no different than Fountaingrove at home. We watched three weddings during our stay at the Marriott, the evening wedding was attended by elegant people including a stunning young woman in a strapless orange long dress, form fitting to her perfect form, she had dark eyes and long dark hair, after Andrew recovered and decided not to abandon his family so early in the trip, he commented that he already loved this country.
Michael loved the Marriott. I’ve trained Michael to love four star hotels as I do myself.
We didn’t really have time to do a project between 11:00, when we finally finished breakfast and 2:00 (about the time the bus was to arrive to take us to the dock where the Temptress was anchored) so we just hung out by the hotel pool and felt the warmth and admired all the tropical plants. Thomas slept on a chaise lounge, we have photos. Michael, Andrew and I lined up chaise lounges and read.
The gift shop was quite expensive so we didn’t by anything, which is fine; we’ll purchase coffee and stuff and junk in San Jose when we don’t have to cart it around.
It rained at 2:00 pouring straight down like the water pouring out of a showerhead that’s wide open because there aren’t drought warnings yet. No one cared or worried about the rain, or even remarked on it. I like tropical rain because it is straight down, no blowing wind and it’s not cold.
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Chrismas, summer. And it’s overcast and somewhat cool – 20 to 21. I’m comfortable at 25.
Which is too bad, a day in the surf was something I was looking forward to doing. I was going to surf – I practiced so I would stand up right away. But the water was too chilly! The wide yellow corn meal Bondi beach was fabulous. We were going to take a trip to Manly beach, but Andrew pointed out that I’d been talking about Bondi for months and I thought I’d better do it so I’d be happy. I have a picture of me on Bondi in my sweatshirt. At least I was on a beach in December, even if I was wearing a sweatshirt.
We walked a paved trail that led around craggy rocks to Bronte beach, a recommendation in all the tour books and brochures. And it was a good recommendation. The walkway between Bondi and Bronte was a great walk, beautiful sights all along the way, and interesting sandstone rock formations. Mom was a trooper and walked along with us.
There were surfers at Bondi and Bronte both. I like Bronte beach, it’s a smaller beach with one street of cafes overlooking the traffic and eventually, the water. There is a deep park attached to the beach, and it is here that the families were playing cricket and playing on children’s equipment.
We ate on the sidewalk in Bronte at Brio Café a trendy and marvelous little place. It’s an open-air café right on the street overlooking the ocean. The street is fringed by palms. The girl down at the café down the street is sitting outside and separating basil so the scent floats up to us on the breeze. I bought a sweatshirt at Bondi because it’s not hot on the beach.
I ordered octopus and prawns. It was excellent. We also drank a glass of wine. What a great vacation lunch!
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Haiku by Julie Bramkamp – Bondi Beach
I am so sandy
And I am so very cold
Help me up
Haiku by Andrew – Tour Bus
I am still and smooth
Unemotional response to crisis
I have no wrinkles
Haiku by Michael - The Rocks
Views - harbor-bridge-opera house
Expensive restaurant/ uneatable chicken
Where is Pizza Hut?
Haiku by Thomas – Blue Mountains
The koala eats
Then sleeps 20 hours/day to digest
Well yes says the teen
Haiku by Catharine – New Year’s Eve
The Southern Cross
Two old friends point it out
Arguing – overhead or south?
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Date: May. 15, 2007
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On the first day in a large city, I like to walk. Where I like to walk, is towards the largest department store in town. So we walked towards the queen Victoria building which is lovely! It’s on the same WOW level as Harrods and it is appropriate that I begin our time in a big city with a trip to the better shopping center. Loved the Victoria building, bought a postcard. The surrounding malls, the galleries Victoria and the Pitt mall and the mall at Martin place.Of course is a few days before Christmas and there is a lot of action in and around the streets but it wasn’t’ crowded in the Victoria building, at least not with shoppers. One young man was on the phone and said “where are you?” pause “it’s a huge building you idiot”The streets were filled with purposeful people. We are staying in the financial District, the CBD or Central Business District, so it stands to reason we are with the workers and yuppies. Women dress in skirts and high heels, the men in ties and shirts – no jackets on the men and no pantyhose on the women, it’s summer after all. Everyone is on the phone.Most women in the Financial District wear black: black skirt, black top, all in stretch fabric and ubiquitous tiny, high-heeled shoes. They all look very focused. Women and men carry wrapped gifts, maybe one or two, not the huge pile of gift American wrestle into the back of already overflowing SUVs.People buy flowers here. The Christmas trees are fake, but decorated and live music from street musicians but no piped in music in the stores. Of course I don’t feel frantic about Christmas its essentially over for me. Which is marvelous. This is a great way to spend Christmas.
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Date: May. 12, 2007
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We’ve all been on trains. First class, student class, in between the cars when we had no class at all. This was quite different. Both Princess and Holland America own train cars for their tours. So we boarded the specific Holland America cars (seven) and behind us were the Princess cars. On the way back there was another elegant car attached. You don’t leave your car. The seats were comfortable, we sat across each other and had a table to play on. We could see everything and a nice guide named Josh told us the history and natural wonders that we passed. We ate breakfast and lunch on the car, the dinning room was directly under us so we could still look out while we ate. The food was limited, but nice and I’ve never sat in a lovely rail car with white table cloths and silver and heavy plates (not china plates to be sure). The experience was very pleasant; it was a nice way to pass the time on the train.
We did see Mt. McKinley (now called Denali which was it’s name in the first place and the locals never stopped calling the mountain Denali because really, who is up here to stop them? But it’s all better now, we’re being very politically correct and referring to all landmarks by their original – and in the case of national parks in Hawaii, unprouncable - names), thrust up and white against a blue sky, a wisp of clouds shredded against the sharp edges of black showing through the white snow. It glows in the sunlight. We viewed it twice, once across a meadow, light green with spring growth and through bright green trees. It was magnificent and I’m glad, after Arenal that it wasn’t covered in clouds, which apparently is often the case.
We traveled through tiny towns, some only of two people with the husband acting as mayor, his blue house painted with “City Hall” viewed from the train. We passed the town that the Iditarod begins from and heard that story – an inspiring one to the determination and focus of men up here. (Okay, if you’ve rented Balto for the kids, that’s enough information and fairly accurate according to the locals).
We traveled over deep gorges and rivers.
I walked down to between the cars and felt the warm “real” air instead of the air conditioning of the rail car. Between the cars you can lean out at take pictures, but more importantly, I can lean out and feel the wind in my face and feel the weight of the air and smell the forest we are moving past. I can lean out and see the cars curve ahead of us around another bend in the track and look behind us at the Princess cars following the curves. Loved that, love being in the whole moment, not just protected by an observation car with piped in Muzak, the worst kind, the piano version of “Tomorrow” and “What I did for Love” (am I the only person annoyed by this?) No, I wanted to hear the sound of the train clicking over the tracks and look between the cars at the rails below. Then I came in and wanted the bar tender to wait on me and fetch me more water.
We saw an eagle nest, but no eagle and no moose.
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This year for vacation we traveled to the top of the world, or at least the most “top” I’ll probably ever get as I realized that dog sledding through the Artic Circle was never going to appear on my top twenty list for must-have experiences. Fairbanks Alaska then, would be the most north we will ever travel. About a hundred miles shy of the official Artic Circle. Still, that was enough to give us summer light well into the night. At midnight, it was indeed, still light, and Thomas, who is our intrepid wake up dude, says that the sky dimmed down to twilight during the hours of 1:30am to 4:00am and then the sun came right up again.
When the natives talk about the summer, they always mention the solstice and how much light they were able to enjoy. They make passing comments like “yes, on that day we had 22 hours, 45 minutes and 5 seconds of light.” Or, “we are now losing light at the rate of 9 minutes per day.” I’m sure that just as there are probably many words for snow, there is a corresponding consciousness of how much light is available on an hourly basis. If you are plunged into days of darkness during the winter, I’m not surprise that the light takes on enormous significance.
The light was wonderful in volume but not necessary quality. The sunlight is while, thinner than the thick golden light we enjoy in California, or the heavy, moisture filled light of the mid-west. And the light made me restless, I felt I shouldn’t waste perfectly good 11:30 pm light and should go for a walk. But I didn’t I dutifully and regretfully closed the curtains of our hotel room and went to sleep.
The new Centennial license plates here in Anchorage (more cars, Anchorage is the biggest city) depict a long line of men, black silhouettes marching up Chilkoot Trail to the Yukon to discover gold. I just saw that very photograph on Wednesday for my class because Jack London traveled up to the Yukon for gold, but Jack only stayed a few months and mostly in the bar at that.
Our room at the Anchorage Marriott overlooks the bay and the mud flats that will suck a person down into the mud like quicksand and then the tide, which is the highest in the world, reaching 40 feet back and forth under the moon, comes in at a terrible speed and the mud trapped person will drown. We were fascinated by this, and had we been on a Catharine Bramkamp tour, part of the tour highlights would be to race right down to those mud flats and throw large rocks into this mud to watch what happens. But we spent the first part of our trip on a Holland American tour (three days before we boarded the ship) and we had no control over our lives for that amount of time.
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Date: May. 7, 2007
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The current attack on Realtors came from the Sunday papers. (Just a note, one of the few groups to still advertise in the local paper are Realtors, yet we are constantly vilified in the press) A series of articles counseled that to be a savvy consumer is to negotiate hard on every point and dollar of realtor commission since the Agent is clearly undeserving of any compensation what so ever.
Oh yes. We certainly don’t deserve compensation for four months of work on your behalf. We certainly have a magic way of paying for our own insurance (cheapest is about $800/month), fronting cash for all the advertising fees, not compensation for car insurance and gas, upfront payment of fees and memberships, nope.
But I’ve noticed the same group being “hard” on commissions and negotiating everything in a sale are the same employees who picket a company when the annual raise isn’t big enough, or when insurance co-pay inches up to five dollars per doctor visit. The same people who are negotiators in a real estate transaction, squeezing the realtor for every dollar he or she may earn, then protest that their retirement at 90 percent pay isn’t enough. Realtor’s have no retirement, no pension and high co-pays for the ulcers we get dealing with the entitled working class.
Are you angry with the shoe sales person for earning a commission? Are you angry with the state government that willingly changes the requirements for education in order for another text book lobby to sell new (slightly different) textbooks? No, you think a couple of thousand for the privilege of working with wonderful you should be compensation enough. It’s not.
And, let’s discuss a recent article in the San Francisco Chronicle that stated it’s okay to pay a high commission to a realtor when the market is good, but when it’s bad, don’t pay them, make them work for nothing.
Just because you’ve come this far – here’s a hint. It takes more money and effort to sell a house in a buyer’s market. When all it takes is placing a sign outside your house to generate multiple offers, I’ll consider a reduction in commission.
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