Christmas Tunes in Narita

For those who don't speak "airport", that's Tokyo Japan. It just seems wrong to hear instrumental version of Christmas Carols carried via the sound system in the JAL Lounge. In a country in which less than 1% of the population are Christian I did not expect to hear "White Christmas" or other similar tunes playing.

So, as any good modern researcher would do, I quickly checked the internet to determine all the pertinent facts about Christmas in Japan. As it turns out, Christmas is commercialized here too (please don't get me started on the commercialization of holidays in the U.S.). Couple that with the Japanese love of festivals, and well, you have an unofficial holiday that is celebrated between close friends and those engaged in romantic commitments.

And there you have it...the interesting fact of the day.

Things I Learned While in Hong Kong

I realize the picture seen here is the not the typical picture one expects of Hong Kong. Despite this, it is my favorite picture I took Labor Day weekend. I generally abhor taking photos inside places of worship, but I could not resist the leading lines of incense inside Man Mo Temple on Hollywood Road.

Devotees burn these huge bell-shaped coils of incense that hang from the temple’s ceiling in hopes of attracting the attention of the gods. Some also believe the incense is food for the “spirits” that have gone before. Older traditions such as leaving food—even freshly killed chickens—are still prevalent practices of the worshipers. I love the snaking curves of the incense, the China-red tag proudly announcing the written Cantonese.

My weekend was lovely, coupled with utter exhaustion. I arrived Saturday morning and after clearly customs and taking a tour bus to my hotel, managed to get my bearings in this new city. By 3 in the afternoon, I was toast as I’d been up for more than 24 hours. I slept until about midnight—then decided to order room service: dumpling soup, Hong Kong style.

Sunday was our busy day: Man Mo Temple, Lock Cha Tea House, Western Market, The Four Seasons, Stanley Street Market, The Peak, Hong Kong Park, followed by dinner at Tao Heung. Monday, we took it slow: tea at the Peninsula Hotel, Dim Sum at Maxim’s, drinks at the Intercontinental (FYI, you can find a caipirinha in Hong Kong), a visit to Sam, and shopping.

Being a student of life, here’s a couple of things I learned in Hong Kong:

• I am not a Bus 26 type of person
• When frustrations ride high, tea at the Four Seasons fixes everything
• It is possible for 7.5 million people to live in 400 square miles without feeling suffocated, while maintaining pristine levels of cleanliness and low crime rates.
• For the best Chinese food—head to China
• Shark fin is prevalent on menus—despite international attention and awareness
• When traveling to a foreign place—pick a higher-end hotel. The English proficiency and concierge staff are well worth the additional price.
• Take the advice of others who have been where you are visiting. Leave the travel book at home.
• A boat ride across a harbor can cost as little as 50 cents USD.
• Paper currency can be secured by a bank—not a government.
• It is possible for an economy to rely completely on financial exchanges—not the exchange of goods.
• There’s lots of money is Asia.
• The coolest place in town is the oldest cemetery—particularly at sunset
• Cricket does have a huge following outside America.
• Americans and Germans are the only people who get an early morning start. Why rush—nothing opens until 10 AM.
• Like New York City, the city never sleeps.
• The rest of the world walks—as in places one foot in front of the other. Magically the rest of the body moves as the feet advance forward.
• Know when you are at a vegetarian restaurant, so you don’t ask for the “menu with meat”.

Bocas del Toro, Panama

10 weeks in Panama can only lead to one thing—getting out of the city! The Panamanians all recommended a weekend trip to Bocas del Toro. It’s an archipelago on the Panama Costa Rica border. From the air, you have an immediate sense of unspoiled, unpolluted nature.

I found a decently priced aqua-lodge—Eclypse del Mar. The family purchased the land almost 10 years ago, obtaining the permits to build the lodges only 6 years ago. They started architecting the land into a nature reserve that puts our gardens to shame. The reserve boasts sloths, banyan trees, crocodiles, red frogs, and flora galore.

Sadly, it rained the entire weekend—with the exception of 2 hours prior to departure. Despite this, it was relaxing enough to jump off the patio of the lodge into the water, walk the reserve, play cards, read a book, drink rum, search for starfish…all activities perfect for a lazy weekend.

Miraflores Locks, Panama Canal

The Panama canal is truly beyond words. As I sit and enjoy dinner, the cargo ships ease their way through the locks. The shear size of these vessels is beyond comprehension until you are within 10 meters. Generally speaking, the ships unload their cargo as fee to pass through the 4 sets of locks is based on weight. The cargo is then transported on land to other side. In some cases, it is worth the hassle to keep the cargo on board.

Dinner at Miraflores locks is lovely, particularly at sunset. This picture is taken just as the sunset starts to descend beyond the horizon to the west (right in this photo). I'm looking to the southwest as this multi-colored vessel passes through the locks.

From Seat 6B

Everyone has their calming mechanism. Some do repetitive motions, others feel comfortable in the back seat of a car. Mine—an airplane. As the engines rev for takeoff from DFW, I am amazed at how my body starts to magically relax. Relax in a way that no massage, no tranquil music could ever produce. I love being on an airplane.

I have traveled extensively for the past 5+ years, accumulating over 1.5 million miles. Until about 1 year ago, I was still a nervous flier (yoga cured that). Now, as the plane enters turbulence or any kind of “pot hole in the air” I feel more relaxed than humanly possible. The vibration of the engines, the warm smiles of the flight attendants, the soft red blankets…it all feels like home. But then again, when the airline calls you to simply thank you for being a valued customer, I expect the commute to work to be bountiful with home-like remembrances.

Boracay, Philippines

For many years now, acquaintances whom have lived or worked extensively in Asian have told me that I must visit Boracay—a small island in the Philippines. “It’s the best beach vacation” numerous people have touted. So, on a recent trip to Manila, I managed to slip away to Boracay for the weekend.

Wow…”best beach vacation” doesn’t begin to describe the experience. The island is 7km long x 1 km wide. White Beach—consistently labeled one of the best beaches in the world is flanked by what is now considered the best water sports beach in Asia. Surfing, kite surfing, skim board…you name it, it is there. Interestingly, White Beach is gifted with perfectly calm waters coupled with sea green and azure blue seas only postcards could possible convey. When dreaming up the beach of all beaches…White Beach tops the list.

The sand is naturally white. But it’s the texture of White Beach that is incredibly phenomenal. It’s so0 soft and airy--like flour. The texture is sandy enough that it will stick to your skin whilst bathing unless you rub a hand over it. Surely, my clothes are still filled with sand despite the multiple washings.

The island boasts lodgings to meet any budget. From $10 to $400 per night…you simply can’t go wrong. The best part…$10 per night gets you a room off the beach (mind you, the island is ½ a mile wide, so it might as well be considered beach front). My incidentals for 2 ½ days…a total of $40USD—and that included a massage. The island is incredible cheap by American standards and quite hospitable. Philippinos aim to please and hospitality is their specialty. No wonder the Europeans have kept this little island a secret…

Be mindful of the means to travel to Boracay. A plane from Manila is followed by a bus ride to the boat dock, where you then take a water taxi to the island. There’s no airport on Boracay….so the nearest island must do. It’s an arduous journey, but worth it nonetheless. The sun is perfect, the mangos best in the world, and the hospitality unrivaled. I would, I will, gladly return here.

Tropical Rain Forest, Panama

After a tour of Panama City—including being able to enter the Presidential Palace (supposedly a rare occurrence)—we head into the rain forest of Panama. Myself, Colleen, Daphne, and Barbara (a woman who has a brilliance, a radiance, never before seen) eye each other skeptically as we make our way 90 minutes outside of the city. The day prior, we were seduced over Corvina Francesca (sea bass with a Chardonnay and butter reduction) and a pitcher of the best Sangria to dance on my palate. Seduce by stories told by Luiz, our tour guide. (Interestingly, Luiz’s native language is Hindi—born in Panama of an Indian father and Panamanian mother. He fluent speaks English, Spanish, Hindi, Italian, and French. He’s currently in the throws of learning German, getting stuck by the sheer amount of exceptions allotted in the grammar of the language.)

The seduction...we were seduce by the tales of the aboriginal peoples who are truly natives of the rain forest in Panama. After loosing their native lands to the government, they were “conveniently” relocated—sound familiar? The natives offer tours to visit their local village where one is guested to a lunch along with a brief summary of their history and current state.

The four of us burden our way through muddy roads in which we question the ability of our van to make it through deep troughs via questioning glances. After many eyebrow raises, we arrive at what appears to be a bus stop. Our driver and tour guide conveniently announce we had arrived. We have? Certainly not. Um….

As we look around, we notice a few of the locals hanging out. There are men, who upon inspection are wearing loin cloths covered with bright, decorative skirts of beads. We soon realize these are the aboriginals who have agreed to allow us to intrude into their secretive world. They graciously help us down a steep hill to their hand made canoes. The canoes are over 18 feet long, holding up to 7 guests. They take up to 6 months to carve, depending on size and available men to aid their hands. Once we make it safely to our canoe, we all have a good chuckle as the senior Indian starts up the engine.

Sadly, the rains have not been kind to this region of Panama, and we are often forced to pull up the engine as our 3 aboriginals break out the oars and row—more like push—through shallow waters. After an hour, we end at our destination—sort of. Normally, the rains push up the water level and we would be closer to our destination…but today, we are forced to hike to “10 minutes” to a waterfall. So, we start to rough it. I am enthusiastic to find our destination—me, clothed in flip flops and my Coach bag which is housing my SLR. 20 minutes later, it is enthusiastically announced that we are half way there. Not a problem…except that I diligently shaved my legs this morning and put lotion on my legs to moisturize. Well, sweat, lotion, and gravity, only lead to slippery feet—in flip flops. I was nearly at the point of deciding to go bare foot—like the natives—as my foot slipped out my shoes time and time again.

Finally, we arrive at the waterfall. Absolutely gorgeous! It falls into a fresh water pond, large enough to fit all of us with plenty of room to spare. It’s the perfect temperature—cold—after a long hike in the humid rain forest. We stay long enough to cool our bodies off; enjoying a natural shoulder massage as the water reluctantly follows the force of gravity. The hike back to the canoe seems shorter and more pleasurable. We take a short canoe ride to the camp.

We are eagerly greeted by the locals via song and dance. We are quickly herded off to a public pavilion in which we are quickly fed. Fried plantains, sea bass, and freshly harvested watermelon, eloquently rapped in a banana leaf. Simple and delicious. The chief of the tribe nobly greets us and quickly begins to tell us the history and current state of the tribe. 2 guest speakers arrive to describe the roles of the men and women of the tribe. All is spoken in the local language—Ambrial—then translated to Spanish, to English. The roles are typical segregation of outside-inside male-female roles. Interestingly, the role of child rearing is a group effort.

The 82 members of the tribe congregate to our location and organize themselves to perform a traditional dance. The men gather to the side, each picking up a musical instrument. The elder—a man of approximately 80 years—picks up a hand made flute. He has been featured in the likes of National Geographic, BBC, and the Travel Channel. The first few notes that escape his instrument, allows the other musicians to fall into step. The women dutifully and enthusiastically begin their dance. It’s simple, but beautiful. The first dance ends and the second one begins. We are then asked to join in on the third round. With gusto, we comply. Smiles, joy, music, and laughter abound.

We are then asked to shop the local crafts made by the families of the tribe. Everything is right up my alley—hand crafted by locals, never to be found in franchised stores. Each table represents the goods of a different family. In an effort to share the wealth, I shop slowly, wanting to purchase something from each family. Sadly, my suitcase does not have enough room, but I manage to purchase a beautifully carved canoe, oar, and stick—reminiscent of our mode of transportation—and a basket hand weaved of palm fronds. The basket took 6 weeks to make. It costs only $30 USD. Feeling guilty that I have not paid enough and not contributed to each family, I make a large donation to the chief. Feeling grateful for the time the tribe has given us, for sharing their way of life. Today was a gift.

Sadly, the late afternoon storms are quickly approaching and we decide it is best to leave. We canoe our way back to the “bus stop” and sadly say good-bye. The eyebrow raises on the road home do not exist. We are grateful for the experience, for the check mark on our bucket list. The beauty, the simplicity, the unbridled joy. Each of us find it difficult to contain the butterflies floating eloquently, softly throughout our bodies.

....A Flurry of First....

First time seeing an oceanic oil spill from an altitude of 39,000 feet.

First time on a plane in which the pilot threatened to make an unscheduled stop (Kingston, Jamaica) due to some unruly and “spirited” customers in the back.

First time a flight attendant gave me a to-go bag filled with a can of tonic and 2 mini-bottles of gin.

--Panama City

Tokyo, Japan

Half way around the world; where today is tomorrow. I flew almost 9,000 miles over the course of 13 hours. I didn’t know whether to say good morning or good night….so good day became my greeting for the week. It was nothing short of exhausting.

Roundtrip, I was lucky enough to fly first class. (That’s a $10,000 ticket, mind you). Here’s an idea of what this entailed. I alone had 3 windows to gaze out of. I had 4 air vents, 4 lights, my own personal video unit. My personal “cubicle” boasted a workstation that easily converted into a bed which allows one to sleep on his/her stomach. Now, step back and think about that. Sleeping on one’s stomach implies the chair lay perfectly flat. Perfectly flat.

The Japanese are a very warm, inviting people. They aim to please. Everyone bows and politely asks what your needs are. As their customer, it is their job, their duty to ensure everything you need is there and meets standards. I can see where westerners could very easily take advantage of these gentle people. As a person who has done everything on her own for so long, it was difficult to acquiesce to their way of life. By week’s end, I found it difficult to revert back to carrying my own bags.

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I love Japanese food. I now realize that I had not yet experienced Japanese food until eating IN Japan. Wow…before, my buds would dance a slow Viennese Waltz when fresh fish would hit my tongue. In Japan, my taste buds did the Rumba, the Salsa, the Tango….all at the same time. It was an explosion of fresh in my mouth, never before experienced. I used to say I wanted to go to China, just to have Peking Duck for the day. Now, I long to return to Japan just for the food.

What impressed me most about Japan was the ground crew at the airport. The baggage handlers, and those who direct the plane to the gate. As someone who has 1.5 million miles under her belt, I’ve seen a lot of workers on the tarmac. But never in my life, have I ever seen a crew wave a plane good bye as it makes it way to taxi. Again, stop and think about this. Every business protocol says these workers should move onto the next gate with a waiting aircraft, striving to increase efficiencies and decrease turn around times. Instead, these workers stood on the tarmac (in the rain), waiving to the passengers in my plane. I’m not sure how many passengers actually noticed, but it was evident this was something that they did regularly. They kindly smiled and wished us safe travels. Well, Japan, I noticed. And I thank you for your brief hospitality. I’ll be back to indulge myself later in the year.

Antigua

A week of sailing around the island of Antigua has done the body and mind good! There was a mix of sun, rain, clouds, and wind. The truly best part was simply being disconnected from the world for seven whole days. No television, no internet, no cell phone, no radio (well, the Captain used the radio).

There were 8 others aboard the vessel. Captain Dax (a South African who has been sailing his entire life) and wife (aka Chef) Kristen. Jim & Lenore--an older couple who met in Southeast Asia when he was a fighter pilot for the US Airforce and she was working for the Red Cross. Chris and MaryBeth from upstate New York. He owns a contracting company, she her own occupational therapy practice. And Emily and Rafa. He's a spine surgeon (his back up career) and she, a recent retiree at the ripe old age of 35.

My favorite memories:

• Watching pelicans dine for breakfast. There is nothing that makes you feel more lazy than having someone else cook for you all week while watching another organism hunt for food.


• Sailing during high winds and desperately wishing that I can keep my food down. (I did, by the way)


• Solitary walks along the beach


• Discovering a 10-foot wall of shells built over time, exposing colors and textures galore (pictured)


• Acting a chef for lunch while Kristen went to have a tooth extracted


• Noodle bar


• Azure blue waters filled with spawning jelly fish. (FYI, moon jellies feel like what I image silicon implants would feel like).


• Dinghie Slinging. Far too complicated to explain here. Let's just say it didn't make its way into the brochure, as I'm sure we would all be required to sign additional waivers.


• Discover SCUBA (see post below)


• "noodle, noodle please"


• My gins and tonics


• Dax's pina colada, best I've ever had!


• Blaring Eric Clapton's greatest hits below Eric Clapton's house, as if we were part of a scene from Say Anything


• Humpback whales breaching


• Measuring the weight you've gained by the number of noodles used (at one time) at week's end

The Gods Have a Sense of Humor

I've come to the conclusion that the Gods--or whatever Supreme Power you answer to--chuckle daily, if not hourly, at us homosapiens. We, the mammals gifted with speech, thumbs, and logical-thinking brains are truly oblivious to the wonders of planet Earth.

We're all aware the planet we inhabit is three quarters covered with water. What we don't realize is that under the surface lives an entire society, a community, filled with unbelievable beauty. I'd like to believe I've been exposed to this world, even though I've only scratched the surface (please pardon the pun).

I SCUBA'd down to the depth of 33 feet in Falmouth Harbour Antigua. Again, sounds rather unspectacular, but considering the atmospheric pressure is double than that at sea level, I believe I've done something that earns me a merit badge. (I earned a secondary badge for staying down for 63 minutes--something even experienced divers don't do at that depth!)

We've all seen video and photography that clearly illustrates a foreign world filled with fins, gills, brilliant colors, reef, sea anemones, etc. I always thought these captured images were somehow enhanced via modern-day technicolor in order to further capture the imagination and wonderment of the human brain. Please believe when I say simply...it is not. If anything, the real thing is better than the paltry snapshot that is accompanied by an anthropomorphic voice over. The colors are more vivid, the communities of organisms busier than expected. Beyond that, there is simply no substitute for immersing yourself (again, forgive the pun) in this world. In fact, I wouldn't mind if I started to grow gills just so I could be a permanent member of Community Ocean.

Less about my inclinations and back to the wonders of the ocean....

The reason why it is better than video, photography, or even snorkeling is simple--you are literally surrounded by this new world. No IMAX could ever compare. The perspective of being a part of the oceanic community is beyond words--despite the wonderful complexity and diversity of the English language. To swim eye to eye with a Queen Triggerfish, a Spotted Drum, and a Squirrelfish; to awe at the colors and textures of a Parrot Fish; to uncover a group of spiny lobster hiding beneath a rock; to gasp in wonder at the pod of jellyfish ABOVE you in the azure blue waters; to watch as a Nassau Grouper darts back into his grouper-man-cave, to wonder at the colors, shapes, and sizes of everything! The images keep swirling in my human brain.

So, to Poseidon, thank you for allowing me to visit your world. May you welcome me back with open arms. To the School of Darwin--please consider this my official petition to stand further left on the evolutionary chart. To Jacque Cousteau, we humans owe you so much for introducing us to this world. To the remainder of the Supreme Powers...please don't laugh at us humans. We are slow to discover all of your wonders, but are efforting to do so. Please be patient.

Progress

Foot peaks above my head during Standing Bow. Both sides.

Namaste

Kona, Hawai'i

Earlier this year, I was scheduled to be in Poland for my birthday...and who wouldn't want to spend their 33rd birthday in Warsaw? Sadly, this project was cancelled. So, with great reluctance, I booked another trip to Hawai'i, purposely planned around my birthday.

For those who don't know...Hawai'i is my home. No, I've never lived there (YET!), and I have no family on the islands, but it is where my soul lives. The Big Island frequently calls my name, beckoning me to return to refresh my spirit.

Every trip brings something new, something different. This year, I hands loads of energy (a bit of paradox considering most people take vacation to relax, to sleep, to recharge). I spend 10 of 11 days in the ocean, swimming with dolphins or practicing my surfing. The 11th day was spent driving and climbing the the North Kohala coast, breathing the fresh air with the Jeep top down, listening to opera music--allowing the music to become the soundtrack of the landscape.

Here are some other highlights:

• Feeling my first drop


• Spiny sea urchin stuck in foot (ouch!)


• Rising moon greeting me during a 9PM drive my final evening on the island


• Full moon on my birthday


• Thousands of stars--the eyes of angels--looking down on me each night


• A Hawaiian prayer and conch shell whistle at sundown on my birthday


• Dolphins...lots of Dolphins including babies. Getting hit in head by dolphin tail due to my close proximity to baby.


• Debs


• Bite Me Fish Market


• Triangle of green energy given to me by Debs at the Kona Brewing Company


• Perfect waves at Honokohau


• Surfing with a honu

Overheard Conversation

Location: Kona, Hawai'i

Time: 9 AM Local Time

Date: Early November

Context: A couple from Colorado is taking their first surfing lesson. The gentlemen's mother is sitting on shore, proudly watching her son and daughter-in-law as they learn to master the waves. The husband catches his first wave.

After paddling back out to the pit, he enthusiastically declares to his wife "Honey, I think we need a beach house." Wife, dead-pannedly, replies "ask your mother."

Progress

Proud Pigeon, Tibetan Camel, and Reclining Hero in a single day...after 11 other attempts.

San Jose, Costa Rica

I always forget how wonderfully serene this country is until I step off the plane. Taxis meander their way to the customer’s destination. Bromeliads line the sides of the streets. Fields of lush green grass as far as the imagination can ponder. Natives are genuinely interested in your business.

My hotel is fashioned after a Spanish Hacienda. It’s in the middle of no-where and that’s exactly why I love it. That….and the toilets with the perfect curvature to fit your bum…..and the red geraniums that line each buttermilk-coloured window box…and the brass fixtures found throughout….and Isabella—the Spanish tapas restaurant that makes your mouth water come dinner time.

The morning is my favourite time at the hotel. Not because the sun is up at 6AM or the howling monkeys often beat the sun. No, it’s the fresh brewed coffee and warm winter breeze (yes, it’s still considered winter here) on the Antigua terrace that makes for the perfect moment. I start with an appetizer of mango, followed by an entrée of watermelon, concluding with desert of pineapple. Meanwhile, the local squirrels conduct their dance…trying to sneak crumbs from the visitors while the wait staff delicately attempts to shoo them away without disrupting the breakfast of the guests. It’s a beautiful tango…a passionate relationship that often results in pushing and pulling and giving and taking.

It’s still the rainy season…so it rains EVERY day. And I mean buckets. The entire country is a tropical rainforest. The rain starts around 3 in the afternoon and is preceded by thunder equivalent to the synchronous rumblings of 1 million hungry stomachs. It’s unnerving yet welcomed in the same breath.

The country’s GDP is greatly dependent on the amount of rain received. This year has been light on rainfall and the rainy season will soon end in November. Small crop shares and hence trade opportunities for a country in which the average annual income is slightly less than 3,000 USD can prove devastating.

It's the peaceful quiet moments filled with the sounds of nature--criquets chirping, birds welcoming the warm rays of morning sunlight, and monkeys frantically calling--that make this country wonderful.

Falling in Love with Buenos Aires

I have returned to Argentina. My last visit in March consisted of zero exploration of the city. This time, thankfully, it was considerably cheaper for me to arrive Sunday morning, giving me the day to explore. I am very thankful to my friend and colleague—Fabian—for introducing me to more than just my hotel and our office.

Buenos Aires greeted me with refreshing cold air. It’s winter here, and I must confess, I’m loving it. I get to see my breath mysteriously appear before me as I walk to the office each day. I’m wearing a scarf, gloves, and a winter coat. Eating soup and finding warmth and comfort under the feather duvet have become welcomed nightly rituals. Recent snow storms in the south—Patagonia—have made headlines here. It’s the height of summer back home, and, upon my return, I fear I will melt in the triple digit heat.

Despite the winter weather, the city inhabitants enjoy the outdoors and cultural opportunities the city provides. “Around the block” lines to the zoo, museums, farmer’s market, the gaucho exhibition, and botanical gardens, are seen in various neighbourhoods. I love that the locals partake and enjoy what the city has to offer. Argentines spend their leisure time outside—despite the time of year or weather. I frequently witness families spending quality time outdoors together; lovers sharing a glass of wine and sneaking glances while sitting on a bridge, overlooking Puerto Madero. It’s the simple pleasures in life that, sadly, are not frequently encountered back home.

The city wears a distinctly European face. Tree-lined avenues lead past restaurants, cafes, boutiques, and galleries, many housed in French-style buildings. The city is littered with acres of parks, wooded areas, and lakes. Families flock here to picnic, bicycle, in-line skate, jog, or leisurely stroll—soaking in the warmth of the fiery sun. Many neighbourhoods house narrow cobblestone streets, high trees, and a particular kind of public candle light (faroles)...creating an atmosphere I can only image, reminiscent of a time and age which I am too young to know.

I also love that women and men can wear fur here, and it is not controversial. The struggle of nature versus man is very different here. Wildlife—especially horses and bovines—are central to the history, and thus the present, of the country. The land is worked just 20 kilometres outside the city centre, providing the freshest fruits, vegetables, and meats to the restaurants, vendors, and markets in Capital Federal.

The most flavourful beef one could ever imagine is here. I have never been a big beef eater, but I always get my share when visiting. There is no added sauce or spice. It’s a combination of naturally raised steers, good butchering, perfect aging (no freezing), and meticulous preparation for the modern-day Prometheus. And let’s not forget the sweetbreads (the thymus and pancreas glands of the cow).

Here are some additional fun facts I learned on my trip:

• Buenos Aires is 537 miles further than London from home


• The most important polo matches in the world are held in Buenos Aires. The city is a nerve centre for equestrian activities


• The earliest evidence of human activity dates to 11,000 BC


• The largest export is the soy bean…to China for soy sauce


• The Argentine Peso and the US Dollar were equally traded less than 15 years ago


• The city is home to one of the four most important Opera Houses in the world

Kona, Hawaii

See Casey find a hammock--hidden beneath two shady palm trees. See Casey nap in the hammock. See Casey abruptly wake--wondering if another application of sunscreen is necessary. See Casey go back to sleep. See Casey's skin turn pink in color.

See Casey driving up the Kohala Coast with the jeep top down, listening to the classical station--the perfect soundtrack to the landscape. See sheep, horses, cows, and goats. See Casey visit the local farmers' market in Waimea. See Casey purchase homemade rosemary bread. See the bread make it home--unscathed.

See Casey nap.

See Casey swim with wild dolphins. See Casey learn she can hear the dolphins before she sees the dolphins. See Casey develop a new strategy based on this learned information. See Casey swim close enough to touch the dolphins. See Casey sight a dolphin 10 meters beneath her. See Casey "double take" and realize that dolphin is a reef shark. See Casey swim towards the real dolphins. See Casey swim with a manta ray.

See Casey nap.

See Casey learn to surf. See Casey on the board. See Casey not on the board. See Casey get back on, off, on, off, on the board. See Casey up on the board--and back off. See Casey carve a wave (total accident--but it happened!). See Casey off the board. See Casey tired after 45 minutes...paddling and fighting waves is hard! See Casey thinking of a starting a new business: a jet ski "towing service" for surfers. See Casey back on board. See Casey go pearling (think saline nasal cleanse i.e. pearl diving). See Casey on and back up on board. See Casey saying the surfer's motto "refuse to fall" while up on board. See Casey fall...fall in love with surfing.

See Casey nap.

See Casey nap.

See Casey take another surfing lesson. See Casey up and on board more than off. See Casey turn and paddle more quickly. See board hit Casey's head (insert sound effect here). Hear Casey chant "refuse to fall." See Casey still on board.

See Casey nap.

See Casey surfing...again. See Casey's tan show the markings of wet socks and rash guard. See surfing become a new wave of enthusiasm. See Casey catch a wave on her own (no help from instructor). See Casey pop in the middle of waves. See Casey get confident. See bigger wave "knock sense" into Casey. See Casey's future hobby. See Casey give profuse thanks to surf instructor, Kona Mike.

See Casey nap.

See Casey leave the island with plans to return soon.

Strange(r) Assumptions

Columbus, Ohio

Mother’s Day is approaching this weekend. It’s a favourite holiday of mine, since I get to celebrate not 1, not 2, but 3 moms.

Starting last year—and apparently continuing this year—something odd started happening. Complete strangers began wishing me Happy Mother’s Day in the days preceding the celebratory event. Me—mother to zero. I’m not offended by this act of kindness (I simply smile, say thank you, and move on with my—non-Mother’s –day). My curiosity is piqued, however…why would a stranger assume I am a mother?

Do I look like a mother? Act like a mom? I frequently scowl at ill-behaved children who are allowed to grace a public locale. Is it because strangers automatically assume since I have reached child-bearing age I must HAVE offspring?

Though I’m pretty darn certain I will one day (not soon) have a child (adoption), I’m quite certain that today is not the day to celebrate me as a mother. Rather, it is a time to say Happy Mother’s Day to other 3 other special women. They iron out the wrinkles of life, still put me in time-out when necessary, and tell me to suck it up when the scratches of life do not yield blood.

Annoying Alarm Clocks

Being a frequent flyer, I've experienced all kinds of alarm clocks. The kind that buzz, the kind that ring, the kind that sing, the kind that don't ever go off (most likely due to human error). Well, in San Jose Costa Rica, I've experienced a new kind of early morning alarm. The sound of howling monkeys. That's right...live monkeys outside my hotel room have decided they are my personal rooster. I am unsure if they are calling the clan to eat or to celebrate the dawn of a new day. I do know that they wake me up at an un-godly hour.

Besides the monkeys, it's been an interesting week. There was the earthquake in Mexico, northeast of Cancun. Then the swine flu (now pandemic) that is sweeping the news (I've passed my 4-day possible incubation period since leaving Mexico, thank goodness). These may seem like everyday news events but I have staff in the city that are literally forced to work from their homes, trying to carry on business as if it is a normal day. People who are afraid to walk down the street for fear of possible death. It's an immediate fear you do not realize on TV news.

As previously mentioned, Mexico is my new priority, coupled with Brazil. Then, today, an instant message alerting me to the possibility of aiding the UK and/or Poland next month. This, on top of Mexico, and the US. I am quite certain that given a tierra, a cape, and a clone, I could make it happen.