baldparrot.com » states01

My turn

mcdog — Sun, 25 Mar 2007 23:49:02 +0000

Well, we’re flying out in the morning and he’s throwing up. That’s what she threatened to write but I wrote it for her. My turn to make friends with the big white telephone. I manage to get out of bed and into the back of the car. Drop an Imodium and off we go to LA airport. We get split up going through security, I have my laptop swabbed, round the keyboard and on the underside, and inside most of the pockets of my briefcase. Just as well I bought a new bag, though I presume he’s checking for traces of explosives, this being Amerika he could also be looking for traces of Arab genes. Herself is delayed by security and we miss our flight to Phoenix but catch the next one anyway. A mad dash through Phoenix terminal gets the hearts pounding but our flight to Cancun is delayed cos lots of people haven’t checked-in properly.
Eventually we’re airborne and I try to sleep. Big mission for the day, get to Cancun without serious embarrassment.
Cancun. Mission accomplished and catch a shuttle bus to downtown Cancun. The bus passes through the Zona Hoteletera, a bit like the Costa del Sol but the architects had imagination and they haven’t filled in the spaces between hotels with other hotels yet. The hotel we arrive at is just off the main drag but the room is really grotty, we take it anyway – it’s got a bathroom. Out onto the main drag, Herself needs sustenance. I manage a few beers, my excuse is that I need to replace fluids and Herself eats a plate of unexciting burritos and the odd margarita, it’s happy hour.
Next day it’s breakfast in the hotel, which is good and I manage to eat most of it and then onto the street to find new accommodation. Second time lucky, and we’ve moved to Hotel y Spa Rey del Caribe. This place is beautiful, the courtyard is like a jungle, with banana trees, a pool and geckoes running all over. I do like geckoes, they’re a definite sign that you’ve left the British climate far behind.
We catch a bus to the south end of the Zona Hotelera to have a look at the Mayan ruins there, Ruinas El Rey. A guide gives us the usual slightly rambling ‘conversation’ in not quite correct English on the history of the Mayans, and the guys that came before them. Though we do leave the ruins with a far better idea of what they’re all about than if we’d just wandered about on our own. There are lots of iguanas running about, he claims they were brought here by the Mayans as a source of food, but we’re not hungry so we leave them alone.
Another bus takes us up the road a few miles to the middle of the hotel zone for a non-iguana sandwich and the odd drink. Catching buses here is easy, ours are coloured red and there’s one every few minutes and it’s a standard charge of 50 cents.
We’ve walked the main drag many times, visited a Mayan ruin and eaten a few Mexican meals – time to move further south for quieter beaches.

Paddies and Hoodies

mcdog — Thu, 22 Mar 2007 15:23:43 +0000

We’ve spent a few days recovering from ‘jet-lag’. Taking it easy. Swimming in the supposedly heated pool( we found a plastic terrapin floating in the pool – had us fooled for a few minutes) on the compound, exercising in the gym, shopping and doing the things that people do when visiting family. It’s been pleasant, soaking up a few rays, drinking a few beers, being grand-parents again and being able to wander about comfortably in shorts.
We’ve played bowls on the Wii that Number 2 Son queued all night to buy and I’ve had a couple of accompanied drives about Santa Clarita in a Chrysler convertible that’s getting a bit worn but still produces a good throaty roar when the accelerator is pressed.
Saturday was St.Patrick’s Day. The biggest celebration of Paddy’s Day that I’ve ever taken part in has been a pre-arranged lifting of a pint of Guinness to absent friends. Things are different in The States. ‘Wear something green’, we were told. So we did, a T-shirt and a hat in my case, a green skirt for Herself and off we went for a meal at a Japanese restaurant. Very traditional. A large black lassie said ‘I like your green’ as I headed for the ATM. Never heard that compliment before, maybe she meant the money I would soon be collecting from the machine.
Young C was dropped at the apartment before the rest of us hit The Londoner, a bar and restaurant in town. The colour green was much in evidence, in clothing, flashing lights, necklaces and bar decorations but not, fortunately, in drinks. There was a live band but they didn’t seem to play many Irish songs, can only remember one U2 number, but the real entertainment came from watching the patrons who seemed a pretty eclectic bunch. A popular drink was the Irish Depth Charge also known as an Irish Car Bomb, Jameson whiskey and Bailey’s mixed in a wee glass and dropped into an almost-full glass of Guinness and chugged. Looked like one of those lie-down-and-avoid drinks to me. We had a great time.

The next morning the sky was overcast and visibility was less than half a mile as we headed to LA and Venice Beach. It was a cold morning and after walking about a mile along the ‘front’ we all bought sweaters and hoodies. Then we walked back and just past were we had parked the car we saw the restaurant we’d been looking for. Too late, already eaten. Passed the new Muscle Beach but it must have been a little too cold for the posers and it was almost deserted. Lots of stalls selling bits n’pieces and people saying nasty things about that nice Mr.Bush.

And they’re off

mcdog — Thu, 15 Mar 2007 19:25:27 +0000

I’m up as soon as the alarm rings at 0500. Heat up a couple of espressos in the microwave and take one up to Herself. She’s already moving. Good sign.
A few minutes later and there are throwing-up noises emanating from the bathroom. She blames the salmon from last night but turns out it’s a stomach bug. Just what we need. We’re leaving for the States in a few minutes and she’s throwing-up. I’m told to keep going – we’ll be fine.
T arrives with the transport and in a few minutes we’re loaded and heading down the road to Heathrow. It’s a beautiful morning, especially for the beginning of March, sunny and reasonably warm. Something that we’ve noticed since moving south from Scotland into the more balmy climes of England is the number of people(especially postmen) cutting about in shorts – in February/March. Bizarre and not at all British, something should be done about it.
A couple of hours later and we are between Loughborough and Coalville heading south on the M1. The northbound side of the motorway is empty except for a few vehicles finishing cleaning the road of spilt fuel. We hope it’s fuel and not body parts! There was an accident ‘late last night’ and eight hours later they are just finishing the clearing of the road. We ring a few people who live nearby but nobody can give us any more details.
Stop to get some breakfast at Watford Gap. I’ve not been in here since I used to hitch-hike up and down the M1 – decades ago.
We make it to Heathrow with two hours to spare – so four hours before our flight leaves then. We wander into the airport, well what’s the rush, and a very helpful employee of Virgin Atlantic helps us use the machines to check-in. We do the usual airport shuffle, eating, drinking, buying things to read on the plane, people watching, generally killing time.
The flight is excellent, the Virgin Atlantic cabin staff are helpful and polite, a contrast with the British Airways flight we took last year, and we have four seats between us and lots of leg-room. We watch movies, doze and read – normal activities on a long-haul flight. The food isn’t great but the choc-ice is a nice touch.
We get through customs and immigration with no hassles and walk out to be met by S who drives us through the evening traffic to the place they rent at Santa Clarita. After a few bottles of Fat Tire beer we crawl into bed for a deep sleep.