Jane Austen's England

It may seem that this has turned into a travel blog, but the truth is, I have been traveling a lot lately and it's just going to keep going until the end of the year. I've got trips planned every month until December, but the good news is that you, gentle readers, can come along with me! At least feel that you did after the fact when I share the stories and photos from the trips.

On August 12, Kristin, Rachel, and I took to the skies and traveled to merry olde England for a Jane Austen themed trip. We were planning to hit not only the big sight-seeing spots, but also walk in the footsteps of one of the most beloved authors in the English language. Armed with our resident Austen expert (cough Kristin cough) we were ready to see it all!

We took the redeye to London Heathrow on Thursday night and arrived at 8 the next morning. I managed to scam some Ambien from a friend (who shall remain nameless) to ensure that I slept on the flight, since we had a full day of sight-seeing planned immediately upon our arrival. And I cannot function without sleep, it's just a fact. After landing, we hopped the tube (i.e. London Underground, i.e. subway) to downtown London to check in to our hotel, which was in a prime location in the Mayfair District by the Green Park tube stop. And then we were off!

Any visit to London must include a stop at Westminster Abbey. It is, hands down, my favorite London sight as it contains so much British history it gives me a little learning-gasm. From monarchs to artists, some of the most important figures in history are buried here (Elizabeth I, Charles Dickens, etc. etc.). And in Poets Corner, there is a plaque honoring Jane Austen. Hence, it fit right in to theme of our trip. While wandering around, we had some trouble locating it, so we asked a docent where it was. He helpfully pointed it out, but then came back our way a few minutes later with some questions of his own. He asked us, "what is it about Jane Austen that has made her so popular?" and he also wanted to know if we thought her popularity was just a fad brought on by the latest film adaptions of her novels. Kristin eloquently pointed out that the real appeal of Austen lay in her understanding of people and what motivated them to love, laugh, cry, and live. We assured him that the appreciation of her books was NOT a fad, and she would be around for a long time. He tried to talk up the merits of other authors like Charles Dickens and Thomas Hardy, but we weren't having it. Viva la Austen!

After Westminster Abbey, we wandered down to Trafalgar Square, where Lord Nelson perched on his impressive column flanked by massive stone lions, and took some pictures. By this time, it was starting to rain and we were hungry, so a quick look at our Rick Steve's guidebook confirmed that there was a cafe in the Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields across the street. But it wasn't just any cafe--it was located underground in the crypt. It may sound creepy, but it was actually really cool and the food wasn't bad either.

Trafalgar Square. The large domed building on the left is the National Gallery. The spire on the right belongs to St. Martin-in-the-Fields where we had lunch in the crypt.

We were just getting started with our London day, so we hopped on the tube and headed to Kings Cross Station, for a quick visit to Platform 9 and 3/4. That's right, the infamous Harry Potter platform is immortalized at the Kings Cross station to allow for photo opportunities. There's even half a luggage trolley sticking out of the wall as if someone was making their way to the Hogwarts Express.

A quick walk down the road took us to the British Library, where in the Sir John Ritblat Gallery are displayed the treasures of the British Library including the Magna Carta, illuminated bibles, original manuscripts from some of Britain's greatest authors, and handwritten lyrics from The Beatles. It also happens to have Jane Austen's writing desk and some of her original letters. Maybe it's the history dork in me, but it was such a moving experience to see books, letters, and other documents dating back to over a 1,000 years ago. Seeing Austen's letters was for me akin to that moment in Deathly Hallows, when Harry finds the letter from his mother. If I may paraphrase, "here was tangible proof that she had lived--that she had put pen to paper." Very cool.

After the British Library, we decided to maximize our sightseeing time for the afternoon by getting on the Big Bus tour. It's one of those "hop on, hop off" deals, and is a great way to see most of the big sights and get the lay of the land. We rode it all around, getting off at St. Paul's Cathedral. Our hope was to get there before 6 to see the free Evensong service, but unfortunately we just missed it. Bummer. Luckily, the St. Paul area (actually the one mile square area known as "The City" as it was the original London and now the financial district) is home to London's oldest pubs. So we got ourselves some dinner at the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese pub, most recently rebuilt in 1667. That's right, 1667. There were tables tucked away in every corner, and once you thought a room would end, you'd realize that it just going on in a veritable maze of medieval furnishings. All of the pub tables were full and the dining room appeared to have been completely reserved for later in the evening, but the waiter took pity on three tired American tourists and let us sit in the dining room as long as promised not to linger. The best roast beef and yorkshire pudding I'd ever had and a pint of cider later, things were looking up, and we caught the last Big Bus back to Victoria Station where the tour ended.

At the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese:




On the way we drove over the Tower Bridge, past the Tower of London and the London Eye, over London Bridge, past Marble Arch, and ended up back at the beginning of the tour. From there, it was a quick tube ride back to our hotel and COLLAPSE. Remember, we had gotten at most 4 hours of sleep the night before on the plane and had immediately gotten our sight-seeing on. None of us had any trouble falling asleep that night, and we had the promise of our next day's adventure in front of us: Oxford and a visit to Blenheim Palace!

Here are some more random London photos:

Houses of Parliament and the clock tower (Big Ben is actually the name of the clock inside the tower).

The front of St. Paul's Cathedral, Christopher Wren represent! Also, I hear you can get bird food there for a really food deal. Tuppens a bag or thereabouts.

Lord Nelson atop his column in Trafalgar Square.

Did you know that I have a street? And am a saint. Bitchin.

LEGO my exhibit ticket!

This was supposed to be another one of those "Things to do in DC" posts that I manage to get up here (way too infrequently). I say supposed to, because as usual, things didn't work out as I planned.

The initial idea was simple: this past Sunday, my friend Jason organized a group of friends to visit the National Building Museum to take a look at the new LEGO Architecture: Towering Ambition exhibit. We met across the street, chatted about our eagerness to check out the LEGO renditions of 15 of the world's most famous structures, and then went into the museum. Where we were greeted with a sign plastered with big "SOLD OUT" stickers. Apparently, special exhibits require a special ticket so only special people can get in to see them. The kicker? The website didn't indicate that the separate ticket was required. So there were, all ready to rock the LEGOs, and we were denied.

Alas, nothing is ever easy. We tried to make the best of it by taking the Building Museum's basic tour, but this focused solely on the history of the building, and we didn't get any chance to see any exhibits or collections. By the end of the hour tour we were all feeling despondent and were hungry, so we dragged our sorry butts down the street to The Green Turtle sports bar (don't ask me where the name comes from). Good food and good conversation can cure even the worst heartache, but I have to confess to still feeling extreme disappointment regarding my lack of LEGO.

The silver lining on the LEGO cloud is that the exhibit is sticking around until September 2011 so there is still plenty of time to get our hands on tickets for another weekend. And when my office finally moves to it's new location in April of next year, I'll be only 4 blocks away from the museum. Happy hour LEGO exhibit, anyone?

Alma Mater, Hail!

Ah, Williamsburg. I spent 7 years of my most formative years there, through college and law school, but since graduation in 2005, I hadn't felt a strong desire to go back. It's not that I don't love the town (I do) or loved my time at William and Mary (I did), but the bar examination-induced trauma was just too strong to ignore for a couple years. Coupled with my academic burn-out from 7 years of continuous higher education, I needed a break.

But all that's over! It was time to head back to the Burg and revisit all the old hot spots. So with Selvi along for the ride we painted the town red...or as red as you paint it when you're facing 105 degree weather. Because it just so happens we decided to head down to Williamsburg on the hottest weekend of the year. Typical.

We drove down Friday night after work and because of traffic on I-95 didn't arrive until 11pm at night. But that didn't deter us from doing a quick drive around the town and campus. Let me just say this: if any of those kids ever bitch about their not being anything to do I will punch them in the face. When we were there, there was NOTHING. Literally, nothing. It was big news when they built a Wawa across the street from campus and the frats and three bars (called "the delis") basically comprised the entire nightlife. Of course, things improved as time went on. But now, there is an entire yuppy village at New Town (with bars, restaurants, housing, etc.) and two movie theaters. TWO! We used to have to drive down to Hampton to the AMC to see a movie. Now there's a huge multiplex in New Town and some place called a movie tavern, which is kind of like the Arlington Drafthouse.

The campus has changed a lot too; there are two new dorms on Barkesdale Field, and the Rogers science building has been expanded into a new "science center." The Swem library renovations are done and the renovations of Andrews and PBK are starting. The law school also has a fancy new library (which of course was done right when I left), and there is a brand new business school where the Common Glory parking lot used to stand. And the University Center (UC) was renamed the Sadler Center (after Sam) and is having a whole new wing added.

Ah, changes.

But not everything changed. Morton (the government building) is still slowly sinking into the ground, but god knows I love it. And the music building, Ewell, is still exactly the same. But they should really think about upgrading their security; almost all the campus buildings were locked, but we waltzed right into Ewell and into the bandroom. We even left some nice messages on the chalk board. No seriously, they were nice. Something like, "greetings from alumni!" Nobody except the janitors is likely to see it, but it made us feel good.

The Sunken Gardens at morning. Looks just the same!

Of course I had to take pictures of the Wren building, right?

The original Music department diva.

Me and Selvi chill with Thomas Jefferson.

The sun dial on new campus looking towards Swen Library.

The Crim Dell bridge. As soon as Selvi and I walked by, about 5 adorable turtles swam up in eager anticipation of us throwing food at them. Ha, suckers.

It's nice to know somethings never change, like the inside of the University Center.

After we spent a couple hours walking around the campus, we hit the campus shop and bookstore (my former employer) for some WM digs. Then it was off to the Prime Outlets for some shopping, and Peking Mongolian BBQ for lunch. A word about Mongolian--it was just as good as I remembered. SO GOOD.

And I was really happy after eating at the buffet.


By that time, it was over 100 degrees, so Selvi and I headed back to the hotel for an afternoon nap. Then we met up with my friend Andrew at our favorite drinking spot, The Green Leafe. On the way there we lamented that it wasn't Sunday night when we could have broken out our Green Leafe mugs, but it turns out they were offering mugs of margaritas on Saturday. That's right, mugs.

That's a whole lot of margarita.

By that time we were well and tipsy, so Andrew loaded us up in his car and took us to hang out at his place. We watched some quality HBO shows and just hung out and had fun. Then it was back to the hotel where we slept the night away. We didn't have a lot of time the next morning since we had to get back to DC, but we slept in and then went to IHOP for brunch. It may not be fancy, but it's definitely a Williamsburg tradition.

All in all, we had a great weekend, and I'm really excited about going back sometime soon. Once you walk down memory lane...it's hard not to make a return trip. Maybe we can get some of you WM alums to come with.

Blog Inertia

For the past week, I have been trying to work up the energy to blog about my trip last weekend to Williamsburg. I've got fun stories and fun pics, but for some reason, the motivation is just. not. there.

It's not like I had a particularly busy week; work, home, some family and friend stuff, you know the usual. I didn't go out late on any weeknight or stay up late any night. I have been working hard at work, pushing myself, so I think the burn-out factor is definitely playing a part. BUT. None of this really explains why I went to bed at 8:30 Thursday evening. 8:30! You would think I had a run a marathon or been up all night the night before....or you know, done something to warrant that level of exhaustion. Alas, no. I was just tired and lame.

I think I'm getting old. Or it's hormonal. Either way, god help me because I'm only 30 and there is a long road ahead.

The good news, I have had a very relaxing weekend. I was pretty active with working out, walking in the park, and swimming and I've had a lot of fun but also some downtime. So I am hoping for the week to come that I will shake off the tiredness and get back to business as usual. And have the energy to get that Williamsburg post and pictures up. Because I am sure everyone is giddy with the anticipation of reading about it. So stay tuned!

No sleep til Brooklyn...or until the AC gets fixed

Next time someone tells me that global warming is just a myth, I am going to punch them in the face. Seriously. Don't tell me this heat we've been having (since, let's face it, April) is normal. I've been living in DC summers my entire life and we'll usually get this hot maybe around August or so for a few weeks, but never this early, and never this long. But I don't need to tell you, chances are where you live it's the same story.

So what would be the worst thing that could happen right now? That's right: for the air conditioning to break. Which is just what happened in my bedroom. See, my building is pretty old (built in the 1960s), so instead of central air, I have a convector unit in each room which is kind of like a radiator. It does AC in the summer and heat in the winter. Unfortunately, the one in the bedroom started making this really loud clanking noise on Wednesday night that was 1) too loud to sleep through and 2) made me think the motor was going to explode. It also scared the crap out of me when it woke me up around 3:00 in the morning.

Now I have this thing where I cannot sleep when it is really hot. It just doesn't happen; in fact, I like to keep it so cool that I sometimes use an extra blanket, even in the summer. Wasteful? Whatever, it's how I like it. Leave me alone. But there was no way in hell I was going to be able to sleep with no air conditioning these past few days. Which left me one option: the couch. The AC in the living room is working just fine, mostly because it broke back in May. Insert your own "fighting with the wife" joke here, but it seemed pretty sad to have to sleep on my own couch in my own house.

As Whitney pointed out, at least my couch is comfortable. But after 4 nights I found myself really longing for my own bed again. I called in a work order on the AC first thing Thursday morning, but of course they didn't get to it before the end of the day Friday. And the maintenance guys don't do work on the weekends. You can bet your ass I called the office today (Monday) as soon as they opened to ask what gives. And guess what? When I got home they had fixed it! The national nightmare is over, I can get back in my own bed!

And now I realize how incredibly lucky I am that I even have the option of air conditioning and I feel like a whiny little punk for even bitching about it. That's middle class guilt for you.

PS: this might also be the first blog post ever where when I ran spellchecker, I got the message "no misspellings found." Go me!

St. Maarten and the Floating Tiki Hut of Magic

Are we at the end already? Unfortunately, yes. Time for the last post about my Eastern Caribbean cruise vacation. Insert sad face here.

You might have noticed that I skipped a few stops, basically because when it comes to two of the islands I decided to just not to do anything and stay on the ship. I sat by the pool, read a lot, and just in general hung out and enjoyed my vacation. But the last full day of our cruise we had our final, and favorite, shore excursion. Ladies and gentleman, I give you: the floating tiki hut of St. Maarten.

Tucked in a little cove on St. Marrten in the Caribbean Sea, the floating tiki hut is just what it sounds like. A tiki hut (with bar and grill) that floats on the water. There are deck chairs, as you can see, and full snorkel gear. So basically, you can snorkel, then relax in the sun in a deck chair, grab a burger and a rum punch, and then just jump off the side and swim in the warm, clear water.

Nice, huh?

There was a boat that traveled back and forth from our cruise ship so people were free to stay at the tiki hut as long as they wanted. Which for me, Chris, and Patrick meant that we stayed there all day. They packed up around us, closed up the hut, and we took the last boat back with the staff. Because when you have that sweet a set-up, you don't leave. Unless you're Kent, in which case you head back after about 2 hours. But, bless him. It's his way.

By the end of the afternoon, when we were the only guests left at the tiki hut, the bar staff was just giving the rum punch to us for free to help get rid of it. Chris and Patrick got a bit, shall we say, toasted, but I figured one of us should stay sober-ish. So we kicked back, drank, and enjoyed the tunes piped in from the staff's iPod playlist.

Snorkeling in the cove was even more fun than our first stop since there was lots more to see. We hunted around for cannons that had blown off Fort Amsterdam in a hurricane, and looked at a sunken yacht, super colorful fish, lobsters, urchins, and the occasional scuba-diver. All in all, it was the perfect day.

And they let me drive the boat back! (not really)

So I bet you're wandering, "wow, this all looks great, but what did you guys do when you were on the boat?" And even if you weren't wondering that, I'm going to tell you. We did a lot of roh roh-ro-oh-oh-ing from Lady Gaga's Bad Romance (and Patrick and I performed an epic dance number to it in the dance club one night), we also did a lot of mocking of the Southern people we spent the day with on Dominica ("oh my word!"), and we did a lot of karaoke. A LOT of karaoke. Almost every night. And we might have done some choreographing of our karaoke routines, just to make sure we were up to snuff. But our perseverance was rewarded, as we received several medals for our karaoke performances. The karaoke lady was also very impressed with Patrick's acting resume...in fact, they showed the remake of Fame (which he appeared in) our first night on the ship. Coincidence, but a happy one.

So that about wraps up the vacation recap. We came, we saw, we conquered, and I avoided getting a sunburn. Think of it: pasty ol' me in the Caribbean and I managed to avoid any sunburn, thanks to my trusty SPF 75. I hope to definitely go back some day, but maybe next time pick a lighter itinerary. An island a day was very ambitious. And as you can see, it takes a lot of energy to sit around and relax all the time.

Did I mention that I got a coconut monkey drink? And you know that coconut came home.

St. Lucia and the Volcanic Mud Bath

The adventure continues! After the coral paradise of Barbados, it was back to the volcanoes on St. Lucia (pronounced Loosha). Kent and I had signed up for an excursion on this island, one that involved slathering ourselves in hot volcanic mud. Score.

But first, we had to endure a two hour drive to the volcanic park. And I say endure, because St Lucia is hilly. Actually, it's VERY hilly. I don't think we encountered a single straight stretch of road. We're talking winding, twisting roads here. The volcano might have actually only been like 30 miles from the ship, but we had to take such a circuitous route to get there it was INSANE.

But the longish drive to the volcano meant that we got a great view of the island. We did some of the scenic overlook action, and then drove up to a place called Marigot Bay. According to wiki, it's considered the most beautiful bay in the Caribbean and has been featured in movies like Doctor Dolittle (the Rex Harrison version) and Romancing the Stone. I think our guide also mentioned that they shot some scenes from Pirates of the Caribbean there, but don't quote me on that.

While driving around the island, we also a ton of banana plantations. I know it sounds crazy, but I found all the information about bananas pretty fascinating. Turns out, each tree produces only one bunch of bananas (but you can get up to 200 in a bunch), and the bunches are wrapped in these special blue bags to protect them from insects and the sun. We also drove by pineapple groves (and saw baby pineapples!) and tons of bread fruit and mango trees.

But the island is most famous for the Pitons, two large volcanic mountains that are called "volcanic plugs." Right next to them are active sulphur springs and pools of volcanic mud which were our final destination!


There was no doubt where we were when we got to the volcanic park; the smell of sulphur was very evident. Or as Kent so eloquently put it, "it smells like damn rotten eggs here." He seemed particularly sensitive to the smell, but I had spent every summer of my youth in Hot Springs, Virginia where there are natural mineral springs that smelled pretty much the same. So I guess it was familiar to me. Anyway, we got a brief tour around the park, seeing the natural springs (with temperatures over 120 degrees) and a broad volcanic wasteland area with bubbling pools of boiling mud. It looks like an alien landscape right out of Star Trek. People actually aren't allowed to walk around on it anywhere since a tour guide fell through the ground and sustained second degree burns on half his body (he survived and fell through because of air pockets underground).

Then it was on to the baths. We walked down a few stairs and there was a pool of hot mud. And it was HOT. The first time I tried to stand in it (it was about ankle to mid-calf high) I had to jump right out. But the best method was just to grin and bear it for about a minute, and then the body acclimated to the change. The mud was actually on the bottom of the pool; you just scooped it up and rubbed it all over your body. And it felt amazing. It was chock full of minerals and the bits of gravel acted like a natural exfoliant. Once we washed it all off in the shower, I could not believe how smooth my skin felt...for several days afterwards! Of course I walked around with volcanic mud under my fingernails for the next 3 days, but it was so worth it.

Me and Kent rock the "volcanic mud" look, straight from the runways of Paris and Milan.

After our mud bathing, Kent went in search of food as he is want to do and we bought some amazing fried chicken and fried bread (think of it as a pita combined with a tortilla). I know we were in a total tourtisty area, but it still felt somewhat cool to be enjoying the local cuisine. All of our meals had been eaten on ship before then, and while I'm not the most adventurous diner, I enjoyed sampling the local flavor.

Then it was back on the van for our return ride! And it seemed even more twisty on the way back. Although we did get to stop at a fab overlook restaurant to take in the view and rum punch. Ah, rum punch. It's like the water of the Caribbean.

A few more pictures:

Mangoes (yes, I think they look like balls too)

Mineral pool at the volcanic park

Me and Marigot Bay. Thanks to the nice Australians who took my picture since Kent had wandered off to look at souvenirs.

Barbados

On the third day of our cruise, we hit the island paradise of Barbados. Of all the islands on our itinerary, Barbados was the one I had actually heard of. I've always pictured it as an island oasis for the wealthy and envisioned smooth white beaches and blue water. And guess what? I was right! But there's also a whole lot more going on there, as we discovered on our little tour.

Barbados was the one day where we didn't have anything planned. We didn't book any excursions, just figured we would wander off the boat, find our way to the beach, and have some fun. As exited the port, we saw a sign for a tour of the island that cost $20 and would end at the beach and we figured, why not? We piled in a 10 seater van with some fellow cruisers and set off.

The tour ended up not being as exciting as I had hoped, although I did pick up a few tidbits. For example, Barbados, unlike our previous stop of Dominica, is not a volcanic island but instead made up coral. So all the rocks? Little bits of coral. Also, for $25,000 a night you can get a suite at the ritzy hotel on the island. Yeah, $25, 000. YIKES.

We also saw St. James Church, which was the first church on the island. It was built by the English and stunning inside. The whole things looked to be made out of coral and wood and just seemed to glow.


We also drove through the first village founded by freed slaves on the island and got a gander at the Freedom Memorial. Very moving. Not that long ago, the entire island was covered with sugarcane and men and women performed the most backbreaking, difficult, dangerous work you can imagine: harvesting the sugarcane and turning it into rum.

Then we drove around the island up to a scenic overlook where you could see all the way to the Atlantic Ocean and then turn around and see all the way to Caribbean Sea. I was surprised by how much the landscape actually reminded my of England; green rolling hills, lots of trees, and of yeah, the occasional group of King Palms. They don't really have those in England, I suppose. At the scenic overlook there was also a monkey, but it made me sad how gross all the tourists were around it. Throwing things at it and basically taunting it. People really suck sometimes, you know?

People who don't suck? Us. We respect the monkey.

But things got better. After a quick and pointless stop at a mahogany craftsman (???), we hit the beach at Carlyle Bay. This was probably the most gorgeous beach I have ever been to....it had the softest smoothest white sand and the water was so blue. I swam further out in the ocean than I ever have before (almost to the buoys) since you could see the bottom and it was just a smooth sandy ocean floor. Also, the water was unbelievably warm. I've never actually "swum" in the ocean before, it's always cold, and pebbly, and gross, and I am kind of scared of jellyfish--so I usually just go in up to my knees or so. But here it was just so easy and relaxing.


And I didn't get sunburned. Reapplication every 45 minutes, people!

Dominica

Our second day of the cruise, we set off for the volcanic island of Dominica. Our excursion this day was a two-fer. We would start off by traveling to a rainforest and seeing the Emerald Pool, a waterfall and natural pool. Then we were heading over to a volcanic (black sand) beach, which has definitely been on my list of things to do for a long time.

We met up with our tour right outside the the port and rolled our eyes at some very obnoxious very southern people speaking very loudly and yelling at each other. Chris said, "thank goodness they're not on our tour," and of course two seconds later they climbed aboard our van and were on our tour. Swell. So despite their clearly right-wing belief system ("oh, you went to school in Virginia? My son applied to Liberty!") they were very nice people once we got to know them. Also, we ended up spending the rest of the trip making fun of they way they talked by saying things like, "oh my word!" at every opportunity, but it was all in good fun.

Chris, me, and Patrick at a photo spot above the capital city of Dominica, Roseau. That's our ship, the Carnival Victory, in the background.

The rainforest on the island was very cool. It was very primordial and spawned lots of Jurassic Park quotes from me and Patrick since it had that kind of feel to it. Huge trees, ferns, and other deep green plants everywhere. We first spied the waterfall from above and then hiked down to the actual pool. Chris and Patrick went into the water, but I didn't want to sit around in my wet bathing suit while we drove to the beach, so I declined. But I did clamber over the rocks and climb around the back of the waterfall to get some neat pics.

After we hiked back out of the rainforest (in a rain shower, no less) we loaded back into the van and headed to the beach. Driving through the island was interesting. It's beautiful and colorful, but there is a lot of poverty. It's actually not as bad as I was expecting, no shanty towns or the like, but it is definitely striking. And the juxtaposition of being on this fabulous vacation against the poverty was not lost on me. But I assuage my guilt by knowing that I am there putting money into the economy and maybe helping that way? Anyway, these are the kind of things that you can't help but think about.

We got to the volcanic beach and trust me, it was very cool. There was a little snack bar where you could get drinks (such as rum punch!) and we got beach chairs and umbrellas. There was also this guitar playing/singing guy who serenaded us with reggae versions of classic songs while we relaxed. The only downsides of the volcanic beach were 1) the sand got REALLY hot, and 2) there was a strip of rocks that you had to get past to get the nice sandy ocean-bottom. But nothing's ever easy right and once you got to the nice warm water, it was all worth it.

White foot, black sand.

After several hours, it was back on the van for the trip back. Patrick and I started singing (as is our way) and we caught the ears of the Southerners in the van. Eventually we got everyone singing along to some Motown favorites, and the Southerners promised to stop by the karaoke lounge to catch our act (more on that later). It was just kind of cool how we started out not really knowing or wanting to know the people on the tour, but by the end we are all buddies.

Coming up next time: Barbados!

Ahoy, Matey!

I know what you're thinking. "Where has Maggie been? I miss her witty comments regarding the every day minutiae of her life!"

Well, the answer, gentle readers, is that I have been on vacation. Yes, once again I have set sail for lands unknown (at least to me) and went on another cruise. This time I hit the Eastern Caribbean, and I thought I could take you through the trip bit by bit, sharing all the delightful tales of my adventures.

The cruise (aboard the Carnival Victory) left out of San Juan, Puerto Rico. This was my first time in PR, but we really didn't get a chance to do a lot of sight-seeing for a couple reasons. 1) It was really hot there. And it is NOT a dry heat. It's even more humid than it is here in DC, believe it or not. 2) We were all pretty exhausted. First from having traveled down to PR, and after our arrival back in San Juan, from all the fun we had on the ship. So unfortunately my impressions of San Juan are limited to a bit of walking around Old Town San Juan (kind of like Old Town Alexandria but Spanish influenced rather than English) and what I could see out of the hotel window.

Our cruise was a 7 day trip through the "exotic Eastern Caribbean" and included a new island every day, which got to be a bit overwhelming. We didn't actually push off from San Juan until 10pm the first night, so we treated it as a day at sea, running around and getting acquainted with the ship, which not surprisingly, had an identical layout to the ship from my last cruise. Thanks, Carnival, for preventing me from getting hopelessly lost at sea. Get it?

And guess what the very first thing we did on the ship was?

Mai Tais!

Our first stop the very next day was at St. Thomas. We didn't actually spend time on the island though, since we had all signed up for a snorkeling excursion. It was my first time snorkeling and I have to admit, I was a bit nervous. I've never been before, and I was convinced I would somehow screw it up. I mean, I can barely walk across my living room without crashing into something. How was I going to fare in the ocean? Luckily for me, turns out snorkeling is basically idiot-proof. I didn't even have a problem with my mask fogging. And it was fascinating being able to actually see all the life that teems right below the surface of the sea. You can see it in pictures and on television all you want, but actually seeing it, right there only a few feet away, is actually really amazing.

Me and Kent post-snorkel. You can see the mask marks on our faces if you look close.

Up next: the volcanic island of Dominica (pronounced like a girl's name ("Dominique-a")).

Constitution: -5

Well, here we are again. Just four weeks after getting over a hellacious cold, I'm feeling sickly. It's not quite a cold, not quite the flu, but this weird sore throat, achy, fatigue, headachy hybrid. As soon as I woke up with a sore throat on Monday I knew the bell had tolled. That's always how it starts for me: a sore throat. It usually then progresses to the stuffy nose and fever stage, but thankfully I seem to have dodged the bullet. But that still leaves me with the aches and exhaustion.

The sad thing is, I've always prided myself on my constitution. I only get sick about once a year, usually the above mentioned cold, but this is my second time being sick in less than two months. Boo. I'm going to chalk it up to several things: the sudden and WTF change of temperature the past few days, the stress of the past couple weeks with all my family issues, and my tendency to work a lot. I know, I know, everyone thinks I work too much (although I don't really agree), but I can't argue that I've been pushing myself hard lately. And this is the result.

I want ice cream.

Things to do in DC: National Aboretum

Confession time: I had never been to the National Arboretum. I've lived in the DC area basically my entire life, but had never been And what's even worse? My MOM had never been to the National Arboretum. She's lived in the area her entire life (which is about 25 years longer than me) and had also never been. So I was looking for something that we could do on her birthday, which was two weeks ago on Monday, April 19th, and someone happened to mention the National Arboretum it seemed like the perfect solution. And then we learned the azaleas were in full bloom and it was a no brainer.

Yeah, we're kind of dorks that way.

First things first: the organizers of the National Arboretum are very smart. They know that people are going to want to walk around, but since we are Americans and lazy and fat we aren't going to want around too much. So everything in the Arboretum is driveable and walkable. Mom and I opted for the combo pack: we drove to the beginnings of where we wanted to go and then wandered/hiked through the area, but could then head back to the car and drive to the next display. Which could be almost a mile away, so I prefer to think of it as being efficient rather than lazy.

We weren't there too long, it was a weekday after all and there was traffic to consider, but we managed to hit the azaleas, boxwoods, Capitol columns (moved to the Arboretum after the renovating of the Capitol building), and drove through most of the other areas. We didn't get a chance to see the bonsais, because by then Mom was getting antsy and wanted to head home, but you always gotta leave something for next time, right?

But if you're looking for a really lovely place to take a walk with plenty of parking (and dog-friendly) this is the place for you. And did I mention it's free? Awesome.

Pink azalea

Mom communing with nature. The funny part is, about two seconds after I took this picture she tripped and fell on a tree root and went flat on her face. Now you all know where I got my natural grace.

Me standing by the Capitol columns (look close).

I love this picture. Doesn't it look like some fairytale path leading to a magic kingdom? Although it could also lead to a witch's cottage who will then try to kill you in some overly complicated way so she can munch on your bones. Let's just say it's a nice azalea-lined trail, eh?

There's a lot I want to tell you about my Grandmother. First, that she lived to be 89 years old, which is a pretty big accomplishment all by itself. She lived from 1920 to 2010; think about all the things she saw and all the history she lived. Some good, some bad, but still--almost an entire century of history.

The next thing I want to tell you about my Grandmother is that I am named after her. But not really. She was born Margaret Virginia Riley, while I am Margaret Ann Riley. My Grandmother hated the middle name Virginia; apparently she really disliked the Virginia she was named after. Remember, she was born before Social Security, so when the time came to sign up for her card, she told them her name was Margaret Ann Riley. From then on, she was known as Margaret Ann Riley on all official documents. And so am I. Although I have to admit, I've always been partial to the name Virginia and would have must preferred it to Ann. But I didn't get a vote owing to the fact that I was still a good 40 years or so down the road.

Names were always important to my Grandmother. When she was in fifth grade she was expelled from school. The reason? Some kid on the playground called her Maggie. She responded by beating his head repeatedly into the asphalt until the nuns pulled her off him. But nobody ever called her Maggie again after that.

My grandmother married my grandfather in 1945, right before he left to fight with the Navy in World War II. When they met, they hit it off right away, and he introduced himself as Earl. He asked if he could call her sometime, and she replied, "Sure. As long as you have a name other than Earl." Good thing his name was actually William Earl, or I might never have been born to write this blog post.

People throw around words like "feisty," "spitfire," but Grandma really was. She was also tenacious, stubborn, and very set in her ways. There was a right way and a wrong way, and hers was the right way. And usually it was best just to get out of the way and let her take care of whatever needed doing. It was easier on everyone.

At her memorial service on April 27th, Father Chuck noted most of what I said above, but he added that Grandma was always classy, always a lady, and always elegant. Not only were the things that she did done well, they were done right. Grandma took pride in presenting herself, her home, and her family in a proper way with all the care that many years experience can bring. She was the type of woman who would not venture out of the house without properly combed hair, and perfectly applied lipstick. Example: at around the age of 80 she was helping my Dad dig the holes for the foundation of her deck (in the summer heat having given blood earlier in the day no less) and passed out. When the paramedics arrived, she refused to go to the hospital, as her hair was still in curlers. They made her sign the release form and everything, but damned if she was going to the hospital with curlers in her hair.

But she would go anywhere, no matter how far the distance, if someone in her family was in need. She was always the first one to offer help, whether it was a hug, a hand, a casserole, or a word of encouragement. She was the head of our family, our matriarch, and our center. There's a hole now, no doubt, and it's up to us all to try to live up to her example. After all, you could do much worse than be feisty, tenacious, and classy.

Oh, but you can call me Maggie. Or Margaret if you like. Either way, I think of her when you say it.

MARGARET ANN RILEY (Age 89) passed away on April 21, 2010. Born in Minneapolis, Minnesota on June 14, 1920, Margaret was a current resident of Alexandria, Virginia, and an active member of Good Shepherd Catholic Church. She is proceeded in death by her husband William Earl Riley, parents William and Margaret NcNelly, three brothers, William, Bernard, and Thomas and one sister, Mary Heald. Margaret is survived by three children, W. Thomas Riley, Roz (wife), David L. Riley, Linda (wife), and Kimberlee A. Riley and seven grandchildren: Sharon E. Riley, William B. and Amanda Riley, Margaret A Riley, Marin and Scott Darone, Brian Nicholson. A memorial service will be held on Tuesday, April 27, 2010 at 11:00am at Good Shepherd Catholic Church, 8710 Mount Vernon Highway, Alexandria, VA, 22309. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to the cancer charity of the donor's choice or the Geriatric ward of the Veterans Administration Hospital of the donor's choice.

Belated Birthday

It only makes sense that I would be late in blogging about my birthday celebration when the party itself took place more than a month late. Blame it on the rain; or more accurately, the snow. The original event was scheduled for my actual birthday weekend back in February when a big group of us was going to head up to Atlantic City. Nature, it seemed, had other plans. Specifically, a blizzard. If you remember, Chris, Kent, and I managed to outrun the storm and make it up there but everybody else was trapped in a snowbound DC. The back-up plan was to return to Atlantic City in March, but again, things didn't work out. Turns out in the Spring hotel rooms in Atlantic City are twice as expensive as they are in the winter (go figure). So, alas, our plans were once again foiled, this time by the over-priced casinos.

But all hope was not lost! I figured, why should I miss out on a birthday extravaganza just because some stupid casinos are trying to gouge me? We then came up with a third plan: instead of travelling somewhere to party, we would just do it here. Dinner and bar-hopping in National Harbor on Saturday combined with a huge sleepover, and then brunch and massages on Sunday. And this time, everything went off without a hitch.

First, we had dinner at Ketchup, which I am afraid to say, had terrible service and only so-so food. The manager was very willing to discount our tab and throw in some free drinks when we complained, but still. I had such high hopes, but I can't really recommend it.

And then. Onwards to the country-western themed bar for more drinks, dancing, and yes, riding the bull. For you see, there is an electric bull, and who doesn't enjoy that. Kelly, Tito, and Rachel all braved the bull with Rachel posting the best time, probably due to her mad horseback riding skillz.

Tito in mid-fling from the bull.

At this point, I had consumed several gin and tonics (though not as much as Selvi, ha) and can vaguely remember singing the song Dance Magic from the movie Labyrinth. You remember the one, "you remind me of the babe/what babe/the babe with the power." Yeah, I'm not really sure what brought that up.

Since I am now officially old, by the time 12:30 or so rolled around I was pretty wiped, so we all headed back to my place for some slumber-partying and Avatar: The Last Airbender watching. And yes, we are all nerds. What of it? After about 6 hours of sleep (ugh) it was time to get up and head out to brunch at the City Diner down the street where we gorged on eggs, sausage, milk shakes, pancakes, and all other assorted brunchy things.

AND THEN. What might have been the best part of the weekend: massages. Believe it or not, it was my first body massage, and while it didn't blow my mind like I was hoping, it was definitely relaxing and quite enjoyable. Selvi and I were in the same room, I guess where they do the couples massages, so we giggled over things like my masseuse saying "your forearms are so tight" and Selvi apologizing for her "head being so lumpy."At the end I did not want to move and walking was a bit of a challenge...but there was hard cider and french fries to be had at the Irish pub across the street so I managed to drag myself out. Oh, and we had to eat the six or so pieces of cake that we brought back from the diner, right?

Mmmm...cake.

All in all it was a superfun weekend spent with superfun people and one of the best birthdays ever. Thirty Smirty. I say, bring it!

Screw you, Spring.

Yeah, that's right I said it. Yes, the trees in bloom and the flowers are so pretty and it's daylight longer and blah blah blah.

It hit 90+ degrees yesterday, people. In the FIRST WEEK OF APRIL. This is unacceptable. Those are August-type temperatures, not April. At least in the summer I can seek the refuge of the swimming pool, or my air-conditioned condo, but not in April. Because guess what? They don't turn on the AC in my building until May 1 due to some lame-o Alexandria city law. So you know what I do when it is over 90 degrees in my apartment in April? I sit there and sweat, that's what I do.

Also, I had to sleep with the window open last night (since it was so hot) and now I have an increasing sore throat because of the bucket-load of pollen I inhaled.

SO FUCK YOU SPRING. Go back where you came from.