Red Eye, Top 'o the Day, or Afternoon Delight? part I

Glutton.  That is the one word that has described my attitude about the amount of vacation time I have in a particular place has been.  Unfortunately, my description while not "regularly" employed has grown to Mega Glutton and it applies to everywhere we go.  The boots on the ground time in any particular place has really mattered; I tried to stretch and create time,  BUT things may be changing. 

For many years, I thought the only way to travel was at night. Wanting to savor every possible moment in  paradise, my favorite midnight red-eye has been  from SFO to Roatan's Juan Manuel Galvez International Airport.  Our TACA flight would  leave sometime shortly after midnight.  Following  a full week of work, anytime after midnight early Saturday is time to sleep; so  sleepily, we made our way to assigned seats and snuggled in to   our  tiny blankets and wafer sized, industry- standard  pillow. At that hour, the hospitality of the crew in offering food and drink was appreciated but somewhat lost on the sleepy souls.  As the engines hum their lullaby, sleep comes rapidly and rejuvenation quickly on its heels.  

The announcement of arrival in San Salvador, the first leg of the adventure,  awakens me as beams of  light begin to fill the cabin.  Upon landing,  I locate the closest restroom and change from my cold weather clothes to shorts, top, and sandals that have been stowed away in my carry-on ready to jump-start our island experience.  Touch down; pay entrance fee; get your bags.  Now is the time to get the rental car and head to West End or West Bay for the first Salva Vida and toast to a great trip at 11AM.  No day wasted  by travel and it's only noon by the time we have checked into our new home for the next week or so.  

Throughout the years, there have been other airlines offering flights to Roatan and some we have tried, but none meets the criteria of arriving bright and early~~gently squeezing every moment one can relish from  tropical paradise.

Historical tale from 2015

The red nose, red eyed dog of Sandy Bay; AKA Rudolph

What was it said about encountering a strange animal --- ie, bear, mountain lion, strange dog-- look them in the eye or make no eye contact?  Obviously, I have forgotten and so this tale took place.

During my birthday lunch at the Blue Bahia Grill on the beach at Sandy Bay, we watched the people and animals walk up and down the beach.  On occasion one of the animals would--oh how should I put it?--not find the restroom but use the beach.  Surprisingly, it was always at the water’s edge so the slight wave action  caused a flushing effect.  There, I said it!

After having lunch,  I suggested we continue up the beach in the opposite direction from our apartment. We passed several docks and then decided to wade into the water.  As we were talking and leaning on the dock, I spied a dog taking itself for a walk and, well, doing what the other dogs did.  Here is where the weird started.

As the dog turned around and looked up, we made eye contact.  I made a tisk-tisk sound and the dog started trotting toward us.  Not being a doggie person, I turned around  and tried to ignore the dog--but he kept coming.  He started swimming in the shallow water toward the dock.  Fast swimmer, really fast swimmer.  It appeared he was going to come under the dock to us.  Oh no!--more eye contact--That had to be a mistake.

Not trusting what kind of dog he was--smiling or bite happy, I asked Sweetie to make a hasty retreat to the dock.  We went to the far end of the dock where the water was from 5 to 6 feet --and the dog kept coming. More eye contact, “Go away doggie. No.”

He swam out to the end of the dock but couldn’t use the ladder because some people were on it, so he swam back to the beach. Good doggie--stop looking at him--couldn’t. I was grateful  for the new distance between us but I was so curious. That was not the end of the red nosed, red eyed dog of Sandy Bay.

I kept watching where the dog was not wanting any surprise attack.  Rudolph (my name for him) trotted along the beach a bit in the direction of our apartment...did he know where we were staying?  I remembered hearing one should never trust a smiling dog.

Suddenly he stopped at the next dock and began swimming out into the water.  I was even fearful that Rudolph might drown since only his head was above the water.  He swam all the way to the steps in the deeper water, climbed up on the dock and then continued to an upper observation deck and sat for a bit.  After an elapsed time, he entered the water again and went back to shore. 

That dog continued the process up the beach at each dock until he was out of view.  Rudolph had a collar so I guess he must have a family, who knows.  Does he take himself for a walk and swim each day?  Was he coming by just to be friendly or was I going to be the bite of the day?   Oh well, I made it through this many years and didn’t want any surprises. 

If we see Rudolph again, I will write an update. May even make friends with him.  That will be another day of paradise in the Bay Islands on Roatan.

Love at first sight. What a knock-out!

26December1993  La Ceiba, Honduras 

We were at a beach hotel on that rainy day wondering what to do next. Marshall had already had his adventure in discovering what each of the odd shaped fireworks did when lit wick met payload.  The cloud of sand, smoke, and paper bits drifting into the hotel restaurant did not make it an ideal sanctuary.  What next?  Let's go to the airport and visit that island out there! 

Amazingly, we were able to get tickets for the next flight to Roatan.  As the plane came into the airport from its circular trip between points, the thought of a sea plane in the Virgin Islands came to mind.  Oh, dear.  Were we going to be weighed and my purse, too?   Our pilots looked like they were from an old vintage 1930's movie.  Little did we know that was just the start.  

The seats were not tiny and crowded, they were benches!  This was more like a carnival ride with one seat belt for whatever number of passengers you could squeeze on your seat. Was that the family plan?  We were quite fine being only two; the robust man in front of us had a gaggle of children on his bench.  Strap 'um in and off you go! A short flight and a short runway away was paradise in the rough.

Wheels touched down shortly after passing a very small, low island called a cay.  I hoped it was farther away than it looked but am not sure.  The plane bounced along the roughly constructed runway until it reached a small white building with a porch, rocking chair, and picket fence.  My husband kept expecting to see Wallace Barry at any moment.  

Not having a clue where we were, we asked where to go.  The locals told us how to leave the airport and catch a "bus."  The bus was a van packed with as many folks as could be squeezed in. The transfer point was Warren's in Coxen Hole.  From there we caught another bus to West End via Sandy Bay and other stops requested by the passengers.  This trip did have more seats since we took on several propane tanks--with a little imagination it worked.

We came to a junction in the paved road: go left and continue on the paved road up and over the hill to yet undeveloped West Bay, go straight and onto the sand road of West End.  Our bus was going straight.  As the bus eased its way along the short distance to the shoreline, the beauty of Half Moon Bay greeted us.  The bus turned left and skirted the palm lined  bay passing a local church at the water's edge.  Water filled potholes splashed and sloshed as our bus eased passed stalled traffic nearly soaking tourists as they made their way along the would-be sidewalks.  Passing  dive shops, restaurants, souvenir booths and other assorted businesses on the way to the last stop, Foster's,  happy sounds were heard and smiling faces  seen at each turn.

After bidding our driver good day and offering a tip, we made our way across the bridged entrance over the light blue waters leading to Foster's bar and restaurant. We viewed fish swimming  in the shallows and children playing in the surf as we leisurely approached the next landing.  The invitation was extended to sit where ever we liked--chairs, hammocks, lounges,  even bar stools--make your self at home.  We did and we even met Foster!

Our orders came quickly with a good dose of friendly banter.  We noticed the building oscillated a bit in the winds and surf, but by the second Salva Vida we really didn't care.  What food we ate, I can't really remember; our consumption of the location and wanting to taste more of the feeling became overwhelming.  We thought of staying the night but were totally unprepared, and it was the high season in a locale with limited rooms--need I say  more?

As we waited for our bus back to the airport, we chattered like the wild parrots of the beautiful place we had just discovered.  On the bus with the  wind rushing through the open windows and smell of fresh rain in the air,  we declared we must return to Roatan.  If it looked this good in the rain, it must be a knock-out on a sunny day!

The winds were strong that day and decided to rip our tickets from my hand.  Experienced they must have been, for the little boys at the airport quickly retrieved the tickets effortlessly. They moved faster than the monkey-la-las through the brush.  Naturally they were rewarded for their effort and all was well.  We boarded our flight back to La Ceiba but would remember the day we fell in love with Roatan for years to come as though it were yesterday.

Take A Chance Airline? Not a chance anymore.

Many years ago, we were on one of our adventures to Honduras and in conversation with a young couple from San Francisco.  We had both arrived at the dive resort and were settling into the pace of the island.  As the conversation came around to airlines the young lady said with a sarcastic laugh, "We barely arrived on  Take A Chance Airline."  After a long pause, we figured she was talking about the major central American airline servicing the country and island.  Her explanation was that it was a third world carrier and could not possibly be up to US standards. Oh, my! Little did she know then or now of that airline or others south of our boarders and beyond.

That particular airline, at the time and now, uses the same planes and many times newer versions than US carriers.  The rules for flying and safety are the same as in the US since they fly to US airports.  These carriers did not and do not charge for every piece of luggage shipped.  In fact they allow more baggage per person and for free.  They serve meals, snacks, and free alcoholic beverages on most flights. 

Recently we flew out and back  on LAN Ecuador between Miami and Quito. Our plane was a Boeing 767 with personal entertainment centers and free earpieces. Each seat had a freshly wrapped pillow and blanket, adequate storage, and legroom--without any extra charge.  Meals and drinks were served during each flight--and there was a choice of entrees.  The flight attendants were top notch and eager to meet any of your needs.

We still have our favorite US carriers but will not hesitate taking one that is not based in the US, too. In checking out the best rated airlines in the world, it was found that the American companies don't  make the cut of top ranking. With research and some  spirit of adventure still sparked, we will be hopping on as many of those new airlines as possible in the weeks, months, and years to come.

As Auntie Mame said, "Life is a banquet. . . ."  So let's eat!

Crepes, the retro dinner (found it!)

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Bored with cooking and food, store wondering was the event of the afternoon.  Well, Safeway has a great sweet chili sauce in the meat department.  Looked down and saw some lovely large cooked shrimp (oxymoron).  They were beheaded, shelled, and ready for me to take home. . . to do exactly what, I wasn't sure.

No time to find the very old--70's --cookbook.  Probably tossed it (sinful, parish the thought)!  Laptop was on kitchen island.  Popped it opened and quickly had the help of Alton Brown and several other masterful chefs.

First I made the crepes.  They were not the size of the ones at Grand Luxxe, but they would do nicely.  Oh, I remember that inverted pan we once used to make crepes.  Not this time, it is long gone.  I made them in my nice little pan; dumped them when done on one side onto the skillet to finish up.  Slick process.

Next chopped the  onions.  Didn't have the right mushrooms, but you can always make something smaller--doesn't work in the reverse.  ADD more butter. 

With that underway, the sauce began.  MORE butter and some lovely cream.

Shrimp added, cheese too.

As I assembled the lovely pairs into their dishes, there seemed to be so much.  Oh dear, guess it will have to be leftovers  or senior dinners in the freezer.

Unusual as it may seem, I cleaned up the cooking utensils as the crepe pairs were maturing in the oven.  It was a break from my usual habit, but I guess it did not hurt anything.

Lastly came the eating.  YUM!  Too much for one sitting.  Oh, and the Parmesan zucchini sticks were perfect.

Crepes, deleted post

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Well, I wrote a wonderful--or so I thought--piece about the cooking of my retro crepes.  Problem, I forgot to save it before exploring other buttons on my computer.  Guess I will save and then preview from now on--if I remember.  maybe tomorrow I will still remember the events of today and will tell, or I won't.  never can tell. 

Adventure in ending ""Tacky, tacky, tacky

Have you ever entered a room and really wanted to straighten a picture or two?  Maybe rearrange  pillows?  I have had that need but been paralyzed at the enormity of what my choices would cause;  frozen with fear of not doing the right thing so do nothing instead.  Today was  my attempt to move from  that spot to the next and finally complete the project. 

In an attempt to put order into  our space, the paintings and frames have finally been put on the wall of the seldom used living room.  I even put up frames without pictures just to get the balance correct.  Since I move very slowly and sometimes put off priority, we have had the picture-less frames on the walls for weeks.  Today that situation would end if I met my goal.

I ventured out to my local Walgreen's today with an SD card in hand.  I was determined to print photos to fill the frames that contained commercial advertisement photos.  I had four size prints to do but selecting he perfect photo for each frame was harder than I thought it would be.  After about 15 minutes of changing, sizing, flipping, and other editing, I selected photos to fill 3 of my frames.  Then came the short wait to see if I did OK.

While waiting, I explored the store.  I did not know the variety of items contained within the walls of Walgreen's.  One can get a wardrobe, personal care items, household items, food, toys--adult and child, electronics, and the list goes on.  My wait time went by very quickly as I also slipped out to the neighboring OHS and got several plants for the garden--which got planted upon arrival home.


Well I got the pictures.  They are in their frames.  I need to return to OSH to  get the aparatus to change the picture frame to landscape, but I have  completed my goal.  Pictures in frame. 

Now that I know how to make the photo prints, I may begin to change them out  with pictures from our adventures or just print for other places around the house.  Next time I will practice cropping.  A new adventure awaits!

How to Improve a Trip to the Dentist

A trip to the dentist is usually quite mundane.  After the socializing, there are the x-rays, all done via computer with the elimination of those awful film pieces that pinched.  Next the polishing and cleaning and the hunt for the dreaded cavities.  No cavities this time (Mother would be proud), but I have one filling that can use replacement. Over with the dull business of that trip and on to the fun part. 

On the way home, I find a parking spot at the elementary school of my oldest granddaughter, take out my latest book of choice, and wait until the office staff opens the gate signaling it is time for  student pick up.  Since dismissal is early on Mondays, I  only completed  several pages of my novel before I eagerly remove myself from my auto and made my way through the open iron gates to Becca's classroom. 

As I wait for the last 5 minutes to tick away, I converse with a waiting mother about the free dermabrasion we are receiving from the playground sand and high force wind.  There are rewards for patience at the playground.

As the bell chimed its last prolonged note, my smiling Becca appeared with pink backpack.  Quickly we retrieved her sweatshirt from the bag, and I learned she had earned jellybeans for doing a great job in math.  Oh the joy of having a good learning day.  She is such a happy learner with a good teacher.

Knowing there was a short timeline to get home but big enough for a slight side trip, I asked Miss B if she would like to visit Cold Stone.  She inquired as to what it was and when I said ice cream, she said YES!  

Getting there was more complicated than I thought since the parking lot exit takes folks in the opposite direction of our goal.  Not to worry, we went around the block and successfully got through the Pacific Avenue traffic.  As we approached the building Miss B said, " Wow, there's even parking right in front!"

Knowing time was of the essence and the wind was not conducive to outside eating, take out was the decision made. Becca studied the ingredients, tasted a sample, and arrived at the choice ice cream of the day.  Naturally she had one made for sister at home, and a large one to share with Mama, Daddy, and little brother.  Naturally I got one to share with Grandpa.  

We made it back to Miss B's house on time, I made it home before any ice cream melted, and it was the best trip to the dentist I have had.   I knew it was going to be a good day; remember I am the optimistic tourist!

The Optimistic Tourist returns

Back again!  I forgot to write about the last adventures we took away from home (a lot since May) and will probably tell  about them later.  What I have decided to do, since I do not work on a daily basis away from home, is share the  every day adventures and opportunities that arise.    This is my new view of daily life.  Previously, I would have said only going away from home on a trip was opportunity for adventure. After listening to my peers, I realize each day is one. All I need to do is wake up to have an adventure.  If I forget to write, please poke me and let me know.  I hope  any lapse would be from not having net access or I am having too much fun to share at that moment.  Enough of the philosophy and on with the show!

My house is screaming "opportunity!" At sometime, I will get all of it cleaned and straightened, but my hair needs to be cut and who knows what I will find on the way to and from Paul's.  The phone should ring any minute so I can make plane reservations for next January's trip.  The cat wants to be fed, again. With so many things popping up each minute, there is less time to even think about the headache from h---.  Now that is luck! 

"Off to adventure," says the Optimistic Tourist.