Ship shown is actual size.
We have seen the Galapagos Islands and we will not have to see it again. Not that I have anything against a place where it is seemingly one hundred degrees and one hundred percent humidity every day of the year, except during the rainy season, when the humidity, against all the laws of nature, exceeds one hundred and twenty percent. It’s just that once you’ve seen the mating dance of the blue footed booby, well, nothing will ever be the same again.
Saturday, Central Quito, lots of touristas taking pictures of other touristas.
First impressions:
A deep and manly ‘hurrah’ is in order, since with this visit to Ecuador, we have now been to six of the seven continents. On the planet Earth, in case your were wondering, as I sometimes do. Granted, our exploits pale in contrast to the typical Nineteenth century English exploratory expedition where sixty percent of the participants died, and the rest went insane and then died, but it’s an accomplishment for us.
Quito is very green, like unnaturally green. Coming from Colorado, still deep in the depths of winter, the predominating colors are brown and white. And even in the middle of the monsoon season, where we get thunder storms every afternoon, it never gets this green. So the green is a nice change.
Such bright blue webbed feet you have Mister Booby!
More on the Galapagos later, as I’m still readjusting to weather that is neither hot nor humid, while relishing the ability now to inhale air that isn’t full of gnats. Plus there’s the whole accessing the Internet, after being marooned on the median of the information superhighway for a week and a half. Amazingly, the world continued on its path the whole time we were gone, which is a little humbling seeing as how I’m convinced that I am at the center of the universe, there being no countervailing evidence to the contrary, at least that I’m willing to accept. Since the world continued to generate new information and news while I was away, I have to spend some time getting caught up on it. I understand we have a new pope, which is great news for Roman Catholics, as well as people named Francis, who I’m sure have always lamented how underrepresented they were in the papal ranks. Also, of greater potential impact, there’s a Veronica Mars Kickstarter! Great news, everybody!
I used to think Americans were plumb crazy with their love of RVing. For one thing they made a verb out of RVing. For another, RV’s seem like a exorbitant and/or frivolous use of money. I mean those half million, or full million dollar RV’s, seem like the world’s worst investment. You could buy a nice vacation home somewhere, put a lot of the money you saved in the bank, and drive there if you really wanted to experience the open road. Just the thought of maneuvering one of those behemoths around a city street gives me the willies.
But now, there’s the world’s most expensive RV and it isn’t even American! How far we’ve fallen! An Austrian company has created a $3,000,000 monstrosity that shall rule the roads. Yes, that’s six zeroes, in case you didn’t want to count them.
Mary commented that she wasn’t surprised when apprised that an Austrian company had built the element, as there is a certain Teutonic flair about it. There is sort of like a giant alien armored assault vehicle thing going on. There’s also the single monocular front windscreen that reminds one of the minions from Despicable Me.
See:
But of course, the best part about this vehicle isn’t the strange Cyclopian windscreen and hulking air scoop. Nor is it the fact that apparently, if I understand correctly, even though I’m pretty sure I don’t want to, that the skin of the PanzerWinnebago glows in the dark. No, it’s the master bedroom. With the huge silver gilt mirror on the ceiling. Over the bed. Because the average denizen of RV’s, they’re all about the sex, sex, sex. Granted, it could be a product aimed at a celebrity superstar niche, but I’d rather think it’s the seniors down at Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Camp Resort at Kozy Rest RV park doing some serious partying down.
Gee whiz, Mom! Grub!
American, they of the almost certain to be horribly botched proposed merger with USAir, announced recently that there was a brand new service initiative in place. For the uninitiated, new initiatives by American Airlines, are designed to appeal only to the uninitiated, because when American is implementing something new, the results can range from mildly annoying to full-on catastrophic.
The new initiative only pertains to Business and First Class customers (oh, come on, you didn’t really think they were going to do anything to alleviate the misery and suffering of the Coach passengers did you?) The folks in the front of the plane can now pre-order their meals before they fly. Real outside-the-box thinking there. Because, when I’m thinking about picking an airline I want the one that insures that no matter what, I can get that dried out chicken breast meal, instead of being stuck with the oily overcooked salmon. My expectations for an airline, at least in the US, are not all that high I think. The airline offers to transport me and a couple of pieces of luggage from one spot to another, preferably without smashing me and my fellow passengers into a field at close to nine-tenths the speed of sound. In return, I will give them cash, and obey all orders, no matter how silly, given by the airline, and the FAA, without question. Although, I reserve the right to refuse to moo in unison with my fellow passengers, if I feel like it.
Commando Camera!
What is with the trend of putting camouflage on virtually everything? Like this camera. I get it that the body of the camera is ruggedized, which is just a testosteronely way of saying they made it tougher. Obviously designed for butterfingers like me who will inevitably drop it so that it falls twenty feet and smashes against some rocks. Then the manufacturer can say, well, yes it is ruggedized, but only for a drop from two meters into a pile of down pillows. So I understand all that, but what I don’t get is, why is it camouflaged?
So we stayed at a certain hotel in San Francisco recently, as I may have mentioned, recently. Nice hotel. As I said, the place is ever so slightly dated in some areas. And in others there are some somewhat strange décor ideas. Nothing major to note, really, well except for this:
Look at it, maybe you have to squint a little. Or do you see a repeating motif of urns, possibly Grecian urns? Or do you see repeating images of grinning sharp-toothed skeleton skulls, just waiting for the opportunity to steal your soul and carry it down to unspeakable torment in the bowels of hell? If you answered yes to the former, you’re firmly in the head-in-the-sand camp, whereas if you answered in the affirmative to the latter, you may just have a handle on things, so just ignore people who might call you hurtful things like delusional and crazy.
Now, consider this – this wallpaper was in the bathrooms of the guest rooms at the hotel. The room where you can shut away the cares of the world for a few short minutes, or a half hour, depending on whether or not, against your better judgment, you had the burrito for lunch. The room where you should have only expectations of peace and quiet. And that’s where they decided to put this hellish wallpaper?
Finally, if worse comes to worse, remember there is only one correct answer if you are asked, “Are you the Keymaster?”
On our last trip to San Francisco, we stayed at the Fairmount Hotel on Nob Hill. Once upon a time this was the hotel in San Francisco, and while it’s a bit dated and slightly shabby around the edges, it’s still pretty nice. I mean sure, you can have your Four Seasons or Peninsula hotels with their sleekness, and quiet money scented elegance, and their obsequious service that strives to be unobtrusive, yet able to anticipate your every need, even the ones you didn’t know you had. But there’s a place too for a genteel and wealthy place like the Fairmont. Kind of like a beloved, slightly dotty old aunt who hasn’t changed a bit of décor in her home since 1954, but she’s loaded, so no one says anything about it.
Unlike a lot of places, the Fairmount embraces their history, and there’s a lot of it to get your arms around. I won’t go into details, but the Fairmont was there for pretty much everything that happened in San Francisco since before the Great Earthquake. Among the oddities in the hotel is a Tiki bar slash restaurant. There also used to be a merry-go-round bar too, but that sadly is long gone, though interestingly, the room it was in still exists, pretty much unchanged, though sadly sans carousel.
The Tiki bar is called the Tonga Room and it’s still going strong. Really strong, like a line of fifty or so people waiting to get into the bar at eight o’clock on a Saturday night, kind of strong. Opened in 1945, it’s been serving fruity tropical drinks with little umbrellas for more than 65 years now. Why that’s older than me! I like things older than me. Especially things older than me that are still in business, because one day soon, when they’re carting me off to the Old Age Home, that I suppose we have to refer to as the Assisted Living Facility these days, I’ll be able to say, “Hey wait a minute! There’s a Tiki bar older than me that’s still in business so you don’t have to take me away just yet!” And Mary will exchange a knowing look with the attendants who are buckling me in, who in my nightmares are all wearing white coats, something I bet they haven’t done in decades. Oh, dear god, I am getting old!
Recently in the security line of an unnamed airport in an unnamed city, we got caught behind Captain Oblivious. The Captain, stalwart voyager of the airways that he was, was a stereotypical Bay area denizen, if indeed one can find something stereotypical in all that counterculture slash capitalism slash old money slash new media. He had long grey hair tied in a pony tail with a floor length duster. Kind of a new-agey hi-tech cowboy if you will.
First off he was on his phone during the entire time in line, and it apparently was a bit distracting, as only a poke in the back from the person behind him in line alerted him to the fact that the TSA agent was ready to review his travel documents. As a matter of fact the TSA agent was ready for a couple of minutes or more and might have been ready for significantly more time if not for the aforementioned poke. Which is, I will note, totally unlike me, I usually refrain from manhandling strangers, and never more so than in San Francisco. But at the then current rate of progress it was apparent that if someone didn’t do some poking and pronto, we’d be here all day. There was of course, some wrestling with phones and searching through various pockets for tickets and drivers licenses, which took a significant amount of time. But finally, the Captain was cleared to proceed to Step 2 – The Disrobing and Unshoeing.
At this point we’ve largely recovered from the effects of the Great Septic Tank Freezing and Subsequent Sewage Backup Event of 2013. All contaminated materials have been disposed of, and the new drywall has been installed, spackled, sanded and painted. Moldings have been replaced. We’re still waiting on the delivery of the new carpet and its installation but that should occur very soon.
I must confess, I was a little concerned about the carpet. The reconstruction company people offered to bring us some samples that we could pick from, and I would have been perfectly fine with that. But, they also mentioned we could go to Lowe’s or Home Depot, and pick something out there and they would order it for us as long as it fit within a certain range of prices. This, I thought, was an option that could consign me to untold levels of frustration, boredom and annoyance.
