tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12399095282345575572024-03-13T12:28:39.443-04:00the Ken Bausert ChroniclesA repository for my literary output including articles on writing, photography, travel, collecting, and anything else that suits my fancy. Please check out my other blogs: Ken Bausert's Nostalgic Museum (for a look into the past at: http://kenbausertsnostalgicmuseum.blogspot.com/) as well as The Ken Chronicles Zine Site (http://thekenchronicleszinesite.blogspot.com) for a look at my quarterly perzine output.Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-20450087727458849152023-09-24T17:12:00.000-04:002023-09-24T17:13:50.005-04:00Playing With Fire<p><span style="font-size: medium;">We heat our house with an oil-fired furnace; we also have an oil-fired hot water heater. Both of those appliances produce heat by burning oil and the exhaust goes up the chimney. We deal with one particular oil company because they’ve always treated us right: reasonable price on oil and a great service contract to cover anything that goes wrong. Part of their service includes a yearly inspection and tune up of the furnace and hot water heater. At that time, everything gets cleaned and tested to insure they’re working at peak efficiency. <br />We recently got a post card in the mail reminding us that our burners were due for service so I called up to make an appointment. While I was on the phone, the person I was talking to recommended having our chimney inspected – and possibly cleaned – by another company they work with. I know chimneys periodically need cleaning to prevent residues from building up inside which could cause a chimney fire, and I knew ours was overdue for a cleaning, so I agreed.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-or1unm3obyVUvZ3bWBiSqLYJMO1yusxkESouJke9tQrD8wl5Imj-xtDwrgLRv547YPC5WnsSbMGabZyk_sZUscufNNkSLEsRtHa4gCHl8xP9U_OD4khJw5Wi-54CJUOhQeC_GXVXi7U73OtByoL2wXogKqazyK2rk6PJK9NTa6ZJObA1csfNpxtj0tkl/s964/Flue.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-or1unm3obyVUvZ3bWBiSqLYJMO1yusxkESouJke9tQrD8wl5Imj-xtDwrgLRv547YPC5WnsSbMGabZyk_sZUscufNNkSLEsRtHa4gCHl8xP9U_OD4khJw5Wi-54CJUOhQeC_GXVXi7U73OtByoL2wXogKqazyK2rk6PJK9NTa6ZJObA1csfNpxtj0tkl/w265-h400/Flue.png" width="265" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"> Before my father was a licensed union electrician he was an oil burner repairman. I often watched him work on the system in the house I grew up in, and I remember him cleaning our own chimney. When Ro and I first bought our house I used to clean our chimney myself as well. It’s been many years since I did that, however, so I was interested to get a price from this new company. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When the chimney company guy arrived, the first thing he did was open the metal door at the base of the flue (the inside of the chimney where the exhaust gases go). It’s where soot and residue land during a chimney cleaning, and it’s where these wastes are collected so they can be discarded. He proceeded to take photos up the flue with his camera on a long stick. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The flue is actually comprised of numerous clay or tile blocks inside the chimney (the outside of which is usually built of bricks – the part that you see). As he was retrieving his camera, he noticed something inside this lower chamber and reached in to pull it out. It was a large chunk of the chimney flue, which had broken off at some point. There were also many smaller pieces. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ZR3K_Ct4Y9DEGf178OaKvmahclpnk_tw8YE6P92F0PrnnBume61BpK-to72ikxz7BjbG59Ok68iWMSAaPfpFKzkzFrN0EcPBBociCuxZmW7Fj4QARnf94NDq4j-klDfRcW6aBE6roQ1kGzRsa17w3kENiCOHCbaq3pNIIl6qjwTZv2tHRZUiecOY1_C0/s750/Pieces%20of%20old%20flue.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="750" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ZR3K_Ct4Y9DEGf178OaKvmahclpnk_tw8YE6P92F0PrnnBume61BpK-to72ikxz7BjbG59Ok68iWMSAaPfpFKzkzFrN0EcPBBociCuxZmW7Fj4QARnf94NDq4j-klDfRcW6aBE6roQ1kGzRsa17w3kENiCOHCbaq3pNIIl6qjwTZv2tHRZUiecOY1_C0/w400-h343/Pieces%20of%20old%20flue.png" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"> If I hadn’t been there to see him take those pieces of the flue out, I might have thought he planted them there, because I knew immediately that our chimney couldn’t just be cleaned; it needed a new flue or liner. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When the flue inside the chimney starts to break apart, it’s usually because of all the residue in the flue being affected by acids that form when water vapor (a by product of burning oil) reacts with the chemicals in the residues. They eventually eat away at the flue and the mortar that holds it together. If enough of the flue breaks apart, it could either clog the chimney, allowing carbon monoxide to build up inside the house, or cause a fire to start inside the chimney. Of course I knew this had to be fixed as soon as possible. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I usually get at least three estimates before having any work done on our house or property but I liked this guy who was quoting me a price of $1,650 to reline our chimney with a new double-walled, stainless steel flue insert. After Googling the procedure online, and gathering all pertinent information on the subject, I found that the average price to perform the procedure on a chimney like ours was $1,500. He agreed to do the job for that price and I gave him the go-ahead.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Rv-fLpM63-yAWEo_YgfY9T5172_J5o5zu6IjQEB6tTg_YXSP7POCeEkqHk-J785KsiWabAItS2sh43oy0Br8NhkSiaF_ikompOPZ8upfJcp86DuFtI4h-N0ehJ3rCP8QLj0AH3iKB7-lE6Ar-DTjETOA0vvJfQEzC_yJNEjhw2hZVPU_foAO-crV-i7u/s1064/Flue%20Liner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="744" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Rv-fLpM63-yAWEo_YgfY9T5172_J5o5zu6IjQEB6tTg_YXSP7POCeEkqHk-J785KsiWabAItS2sh43oy0Br8NhkSiaF_ikompOPZ8upfJcp86DuFtI4h-N0ehJ3rCP8QLj0AH3iKB7-lE6Ar-DTjETOA0vvJfQEzC_yJNEjhw2hZVPU_foAO-crV-i7u/w280-h400/Flue%20Liner.png" width="280" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><i>(Stock photo found on the internet)</i></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> You can’t put a price on peace of mind.</span></p>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-75530325971794275132023-09-24T16:54:00.000-04:002023-09-24T16:55:09.062-04:00The Real Marshall Tucker<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Unless you’re a die-hard Marshall Tucker Band fan, you could easily think the Southern Rock group was named for it’s lead singer or another member of the band. Not so, says a recent post in a Classic Rock blog that I subscribe to. It seems the real Marshall Tucker was a blind piano tuner who passed away recently, on January 20th, 2023, at the age of 99. The band mourned his passing as they prepare to embark on a 50th Anniversary Tour this spring </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It seems the band were practicing in an old warehouse, in Spartanburg, South Carolina, when they first formed in 1972. At that time they were called Toy Factory, after founding member, Toy Caldwell, but were not happy with the name. One day during practice, they found a key chain with Mr. Tucker’s name on it. It turned out that Marshall was renting space in that very same warehouse so he could repair and rebuild pianos there. The band were desperate for a name for their group and decided that Marshall Tucker had a nice ring to it, so they adopted the moniker for their own purposes.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOtrH0ljRagMw_frF5w2JoUH6yYMuQKVVzcw2NE5woEVMx6vyHAyEG7RU_oD41kCY6CBqwhFpSb6jBzgku37fjvX2yxVweDmyEzAvmJ67Ff7PARWQQRhm1qy-vKt5oLTp7_AWwhectyXsdi1xh_hQMC7uVuwBcPPoQvX_heGoOBb81aQIrX6jhZ018omxE/s866/Marshall%20Tucker.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="866" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOtrH0ljRagMw_frF5w2JoUH6yYMuQKVVzcw2NE5woEVMx6vyHAyEG7RU_oD41kCY6CBqwhFpSb6jBzgku37fjvX2yxVweDmyEzAvmJ67Ff7PARWQQRhm1qy-vKt5oLTp7_AWwhectyXsdi1xh_hQMC7uVuwBcPPoQvX_heGoOBb81aQIrX6jhZ018omxE/w640-h347/Marshall%20Tucker.png" width="640" /> </a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>(Photo found on the internet, photographer unknown)</i></span> <br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In a 2020 interview with Mr. Tucker, writer Jack Lunn learned that Marshall never even knew the band had used his name until a friend told him. He said he really didn’t mind as long as they didn’t desecrate his name. In the long run, he said it helped his business as many young musicians sought him out to work on their pianos. Marshall Tucker actually was reported to have perfect pitch, meaning he could distinguish any note just by hearing it; only about one in 10,000 people have it. </span><br /></p>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-71795742570008916792021-08-17T23:22:00.003-04:002021-08-23T00:17:34.838-04:00Rock Fantasy, Pinball, Middletown, NY<p><span style="font-size: medium;">While we were spending some time upstate New York at our son’s place in late June, he suggested we take a ride to Rock Fantasy, about 25-miles away, in Middletown (Orange County). Rock Fantasy is a record/CD/head shop, with the unexpected bonus of having 45 vintage (mostly working) pinball machines scattered within several rooms of a cavernous old store on Main Street.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_jBUCx_o8q8/YRx642jF2aI/AAAAAAAAKJE/iqnbiLaAQJof_21Hj7W0HGbeVAoTtbBjQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1500/Lined%2Bup%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_jBUCx_o8q8/YRx642jF2aI/AAAAAAAAKJE/iqnbiLaAQJof_21Hj7W0HGbeVAoTtbBjQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/Lined%2Bup%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_r3F0OuPSj0/YRx7FZWckxI/AAAAAAAAKJI/aaOFBzkOFwItZYR6F-et7Oh3NT-srv9ggCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Baxter%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_r3F0OuPSj0/YRx7FZWckxI/AAAAAAAAKJI/aaOFBzkOFwItZYR6F-et7Oh3NT-srv9ggCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/Baxter%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JWd1TXX3CVo/YRx7Xj7xsqI/AAAAAAAAKJQ/hYd5G7qxU94n4It96P0aHSC6e-3Op6WsACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Back%2Broom%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JWd1TXX3CVo/YRx7Xj7xsqI/AAAAAAAAKJQ/hYd5G7qxU94n4It96P0aHSC6e-3Op6WsACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/Back%2Broom%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">With a 2010 population of only 28,086 people, Middletown is the last place I’d expect to find such a mind-boggling attraction. Besides records and CDs, there are rock and pop-culture posters, photos, and apparel throughout the place, with black light posters adding additional ambiance.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1T8x_ur4-6s/YRx73pNpsbI/AAAAAAAAKJY/IDWhmrmVs0gg70_t7bJ-3WzIW6aIWZ87gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1500/Kiss%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1T8x_ur4-6s/YRx73pNpsbI/AAAAAAAAKJY/IDWhmrmVs0gg70_t7bJ-3WzIW6aIWZ87gCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/Kiss%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dfng3UYAA5w/YRx8CYIawsI/AAAAAAAAKJc/-IGwln1UhMQI2pWaFq-FnD3a3_rK4ZppACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Beatles%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dfng3UYAA5w/YRx8CYIawsI/AAAAAAAAKJc/-IGwln1UhMQI2pWaFq-FnD3a3_rK4ZppACLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/Beatles%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My son, grandson, and I had a great time playing the numerous games, and my son managed to pick up some records he had been looking for. My favorite pinball machine was an early Beatles game, featuring songs and footage from TV appearances and concerts on a small screen, as well as a record spinning in the middle of the playing field that sends your ball careening off in different directions if it passes over it. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JlR5rYBTjjE/YRx8Q1vlBFI/AAAAAAAAKJk/WQA-qxwE_wk-tHZip9ZhPGnnHZbkDknagCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Hockey%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JlR5rYBTjjE/YRx8Q1vlBFI/AAAAAAAAKJk/WQA-qxwE_wk-tHZip9ZhPGnnHZbkDknagCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/Hockey%2Bto%2Buse.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">If you love pinball and are ever in the area, I’d strongly recommend stopping into Rock Fantasy.</span></p>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-24530480186930455322021-06-09T15:29:00.006-04:002021-06-09T16:19:01.364-04:00Birds of Summer<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Last summer, I had a pigeon hanging out at our house. Every time I walked outside, I would see him (or her) perched up on our roof. I figured it might be hungry so I’d throw some bird seed on the garage roof for it. After about a month, it took off and I haven’t seen it since.
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</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xTqWw27rfTA/YMEXBL9lLJI/AAAAAAAAKEM/fmY6fmtiDMMb06eD5DWVLsp1znZyGTXmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/pidgeon%2Bcopy.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1202" data-original-width="1800" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xTqWw27rfTA/YMEXBL9lLJI/AAAAAAAAKEM/fmY6fmtiDMMb06eD5DWVLsp1znZyGTXmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/pidgeon%2Bcopy.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span>Then, while we were up at our daughter’s house in Connecticut for a few days last summer, I sat under some trees in her yard, reading zines, and was able to get some good photos of birds at their feeders with my telephoto lens.
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Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-23357334147619191462020-05-17T12:27:00.003-04:002020-08-18T21:25:21.553-04:00Getting the Music OFF the TV<div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Living in a condo that was built 40 years ago means there are some thin walls, floors and ceilings to deal with. When I watch a music video or concert on my TV through a tv channel, DVD player, YouTube, or Netflix, I like to turn the sound up but don’t want to disturb my neighbors. In addition, I could be watching something on the TV in the living room, and my wife might be watching something on the TV in the bedroom (on the other side of the wall from my TV). Either way, my logical step would be to use headphones.</span><br /><div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The problem is, even though I've got a Smart TV, it doesn't have a jack anywhere to plug in headphones. Sure, I could buy a set of BlueTooth headphones but who wants to spend that kind of money if you don't have to? Besides, my wired headphones sound great! I do, however, have an Optical Digital Audio port on the back of my TV – but my headphones have a standard 1/8- inch male stereo plug on the end of their cable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, here's what I did: I bought an Optical Digital to Analog converter on eBay for $15; it also has a coax input, and RCA output ports that I can plug external or portable speakers into. My headphones have no volume control on them but the headphone port on the converter does. I bought a 15-foot Digital Optical fiber-optic extension cable ($12.79 on eBay) to bring the converter over to the couch. The converter is powered by a USB port on the back of the TV so I paired a 15-foot USB extension cable ($8.50 on eBay) with the other one; I kept them together using small plastic wire ties.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G5JzARrKGK4/XsFhP3poDFI/AAAAAAAAJN8/qc4w1nDnXU4CM74h-Kk3TarAujMJ5TMFgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/024FE5C3-5236-4042-90D4-846FA78C1C3F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="1600" height="260" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G5JzARrKGK4/XsFhP3poDFI/AAAAAAAAJN8/qc4w1nDnXU4CM74h-Kk3TarAujMJ5TMFgCPcBGAYYCw/s400/024FE5C3-5236-4042-90D4-846FA78C1C3F.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, if I want to watch music videos late at night, I just unroll the paired cables from under the entertainment center, bring them over to the couch, and I toggle the “sound out” setting on my TV to “external” and I'm set to go, without disturbing anyone else. I also have a splitter that allows two sets of headphones to be used if a friend comes over.</span></div>
Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-32616672829669411912017-12-17T21:52:00.004-05:002017-12-17T22:18:28.483-05:00The Birds of Homosassa Springs<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Sorry it's taken so long to add to this particular blog but I seldom (never?) get any comments on it so I often wonder if anyone is actually looking at it.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Homosassa Springs State Wildlife Park was formally privately-owned and operated before the state of Florida took it over in 1984. It's located 75 miles north of Tampa on U.S. 19, and about 90 miles northwest of Orlando. <i>(Click on any image to enlarge it.)</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QD3SCvCPrSU/Wjcmt1NzB4I/AAAAAAAAB5s/KBpUE1a9la06UVg2No77znRWrKtNvbD6QCLcBGAs/s1600/Homosassa%2BSprings%2Bmap.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1372" data-original-width="1600" height="342" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QD3SCvCPrSU/Wjcmt1NzB4I/AAAAAAAAB5s/KBpUE1a9la06UVg2No77znRWrKtNvbD6QCLcBGAs/s400/Homosassa%2BSprings%2Bmap.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">While it has on display many animals native to Florida like deer, bear, and fox, wild and free manatees regularly can be found in the waters surrounding the park; the overabundance of birds found here makes it a bird-watchers' paradise. Some of the residents in the park have been injured and/or rescued, like a hawk with only one wing. Many inhabitants, however, are not in cages but roam, swim, fly or nest freely within the park's confines. Visitors may start off their tour with a boat ride from the visitors' center to the entrance of the park itself.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8RpJgvJP1-E/WjcnmXftPRI/AAAAAAAAB54/XwGFQIVGMkgZC9mn9eMt1Cr4PrzVfwkPwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1070784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="1600" height="288" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8RpJgvJP1-E/WjcnmXftPRI/AAAAAAAAB54/XwGFQIVGMkgZC9mn9eMt1Cr4PrzVfwkPwCLcBGAs/s400/P1070784.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">During the short boat ride, some local wildlife like crocodiles and turtles can be seen in the water before you even get into the park.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XEUWfY5jN8U/Wjcy2zSGKWI/AAAAAAAAB7w/pMCcbq9P4JwCWX-RYubsw7SMO6lFLQ4YwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1070782.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XEUWfY5jN8U/Wjcy2zSGKWI/AAAAAAAAB7w/pMCcbq9P4JwCWX-RYubsw7SMO6lFLQ4YwCLcBGAs/s400/P1070782.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mjJsLp3MREI/Wjcy-eRo4ZI/AAAAAAAAB70/4GJIBCXnjVIlDBGur7iral2nTnRdwm5ywCLcBGAs/s1600/P1060984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mjJsLp3MREI/Wjcy-eRo4ZI/AAAAAAAAB70/4GJIBCXnjVIlDBGur7iral2nTnRdwm5ywCLcBGAs/s400/P1060984.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The following are some of my photos that I shot during the winter months within the past two years; the camera is a Panasonic Lumix FZ150 (super-telephoto "point & shoot").</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ywxVlUNk7n8/Wjcp49l6SXI/AAAAAAAAB6U/kSmLr_xTaTY5Ierzyq2WwT2fcJrhP5u3wCLcBGAs/s1600/P1070042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-stXPSVcdo34/WjcvBVu6djI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/TxpU3v4Toc4etCs01Or6UA7V-QStkXA8ACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1471" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-stXPSVcdo34/WjcvBVu6djI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/TxpU3v4Toc4etCs01Or6UA7V-QStkXA8ACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_3904.JPG" width="367" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QueldQtVtlI/WjcqZwljxeI/AAAAAAAAB6k/B_ERYXBhMkQqmZXm9H-6AAGO2UXnbMWpgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QueldQtVtlI/WjcqZwljxeI/AAAAAAAAB6k/B_ERYXBhMkQqmZXm9H-6AAGO2UXnbMWpgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_3051.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Many birds nest in the trees and can be seen bringing building supplies or food to their nest.</span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eYRUlyuSjeU/WjcqvsJu0YI/AAAAAAAAB6o/d_xPxKrcVxweIWo68zasrwq2AOLcV4_zQCLcBGAs/s1600/P1070070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eYRUlyuSjeU/WjcqvsJu0YI/AAAAAAAAB6o/d_xPxKrcVxweIWo68zasrwq2AOLcV4_zQCLcBGAs/s400/P1070070.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FkWe6f4hHBk/Wjcq5qLPnoI/AAAAAAAAB6s/5chd96eVXsY34CjMd3cuxdAMZUBZRhU3gCLcBGAs/s1600/P1070806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FkWe6f4hHBk/Wjcq5qLPnoI/AAAAAAAAB6s/5chd96eVXsY34CjMd3cuxdAMZUBZRhU3gCLcBGAs/s400/P1070806.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's a wide variety of waterfowl in their natural habitat for you to enjoy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ixS0fJD-ZE/WjcrUqivsbI/AAAAAAAAB60/-_X-R5-RlHY7h7gnF1SW871gvdxZxNbzQCLcBGAs/s1600/P1070907%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ixS0fJD-ZE/WjcrUqivsbI/AAAAAAAAB60/-_X-R5-RlHY7h7gnF1SW871gvdxZxNbzQCLcBGAs/s400/P1070907%2B2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<br />Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-25542298876975994462014-07-06T08:05:00.000-04:002014-07-06T08:05:14.578-04:00Poughkeepsie Walking Bridge Across the Hudson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Poughkeepsie railroad bridge originally carried trains full of people and freight high across the Hudson River. It's now become a part of the New York State Parks system and invites folks to walk across the river at a height of 212 feet. At 1.28 miles long, it is the longest elevated pedestrian bridge in the world. Walkway State Park officially opened to the public on Saturday, October 3, 2009.</div>
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<i>(Click on any photo to enlarge it.)</i></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3HIMYPcmJ2E/U7kzjgUFwlI/AAAAAAAABoE/OLq3HFbFKpY/s1600/1+Wisconsin_varsity_rowing_team_at_1914_Poughkeepsie_regatta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3HIMYPcmJ2E/U7kzjgUFwlI/AAAAAAAABoE/OLq3HFbFKpY/s1600/1+Wisconsin_varsity_rowing_team_at_1914_Poughkeepsie_regatta.jpg" height="231" width="320" /></a></div>
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(Above): This public domain photo shows the</div>
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Wisconsin Varsity Rowing Team</div>
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posing beneath the structure in 1914.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I9xVb5Lwkt8/U7kzkB41cpI/AAAAAAAABoI/mlo1pWpzCv8/s1600/2+P1040398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I9xVb5Lwkt8/U7kzkB41cpI/AAAAAAAABoI/mlo1pWpzCv8/s1600/2+P1040398.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ro and I visited it on in July, 2014, and</div>
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accessed it from the Poughkeepsie side</div>
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via a staircase off Washington Street.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBbXssolK6w/U7kzkRYR1zI/AAAAAAAABoM/HDAjCk8QKRw/s1600/3+P1040394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBbXssolK6w/U7kzkRYR1zI/AAAAAAAABoM/HDAjCk8QKRw/s1600/3+P1040394.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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The Poughkeepsie end of the bridge disappears into a densely wooded area.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kXZ25OjNXQ0/U7kzlCzertI/AAAAAAAABoY/kvrrXyfPeL8/s1600/5+P1040380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kXZ25OjNXQ0/U7kzlCzertI/AAAAAAAABoY/kvrrXyfPeL8/s1600/5+P1040380.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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(Above) Looking west, toward the river.</div>
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A tall chain link fence protects cars on Route 9</div>
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(and people on the ground) below</div>
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from objects that might fall or be thrown</div>
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off the east end of the bridge. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fPGwDaLIMys/U7kzl1bTSDI/AAAAAAAABos/aDzrd4n0HTw/s1600/7+P1040382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fPGwDaLIMys/U7kzl1bTSDI/AAAAAAAABos/aDzrd4n0HTw/s1600/7+P1040382.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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(Above) Looking south down the Hudson River</div>
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at the Mid-Hudson Bridge connecting Poughkeepsie</div>
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and Highland (on the west shore of the river).</div>
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A barge makes its way south along the river</div>
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under the Mid-Hudson Bridge.</div>
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Ro finds it's pretty windy high up in the center</div>
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of the walking bridge.</div>
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(Above): Looking east toward Poughkeepsie.</div>
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From the vantage point high above, you're</div>
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actually at the height of tall trees in the</div>
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community below.</div>
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We only walked halfway across the bridge</div>
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before returning to our starting point</div>
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but we plan on going back.</div>
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If you're in the area of Poughkeepsie,</div>
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take the time to walk across the bridge</div>
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and appreciate the unique experience it affords you.</div>
<br />Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-38421997848518259102014-05-04T22:18:00.002-04:002014-07-06T08:06:33.932-04:00New York Rising<div style="text-align: left;">
I imagine anyone having serious damage from Superstorm Sandy must be very used to having their patience tried. Government red tape and delays in getting any kind of assistance to those in need have got to be maddening for those affected.</div>
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We know some people who live in a two-story house in Massapequa, here on Long Island; it was originally built in 1947 but had been renovated and expanded over the years. They are about a block and a half away from the bay to their south, another block away from a canal to the east, and two blocks from a canal to the west. Their first floor was wiped out during Hurricane Irene, a few years ago, so they had to rebuilt it. When Sandy hit Long Island, it completely destroyed their first floor again.<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Early photos by Ken Bausert; later photos by Tim (the homeowner).</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Click on any photo to enlarge.</span></i></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GYvFs66GYqo/U2bsuWPOOOI/AAAAAAAABjs/P44JeX7M7ds/s1600/1+House+on+ground.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GYvFs66GYqo/U2bsuWPOOOI/AAAAAAAABjs/P44JeX7M7ds/s1600/1+House+on+ground.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Now, I’m sure there are people saying, “Well, they shouldn’t build homes so close to the water,” and, of course, in a perfect world, that’s correct. But, as in many other areas, homes have long been built in locations that never suffered such catastrophic damage over the course of decades – or even hundreds of years – and it only takes one superstorm to show how vulnerable they can be.</div>
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In any case, after fourteen months, this family was finally approved for assistance and they are in the process of raising their house ten feet off the ground. Since we had been in contact with Pat, she informed us of when the work was being done so I spent two days watching – and photographing – the event.<br />
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Because the house originally sat on a slab (no basement) there were no first floor joists to lift it from. That required hefty wooden beams to be secured to all the inside wall studs of the first floor so that huge steel girders could be placed (through holes in the walls) under them before being lifted by powerful hydraulic jacks. And, because there were few load-bearing walls in the center of the first floor, massive supports had to be placed under the second floor during the lift to maintain integrity with the first floor walls.</div>
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A tricky undertaking!<br />
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The new ground level can not be used for “living space” and, of course, the old first floor (now the second floor) must have all new floor joists installed. The oil burner remains on the ground level but must be raised over a yard off the slab so that it will not be damaged unless the water level rises above that height in the event of another storm.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g9Xd4xCYLKo/U2bt4IHiSoI/AAAAAAAABkM/-kv3GE8SgVY/s1600/5+Girders+through+windows+(on+ground).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g9Xd4xCYLKo/U2bt4IHiSoI/AAAAAAAABkM/-kv3GE8SgVY/s1600/5+Girders+through+windows+(on+ground).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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The hydraulic pumping station which distributes pressure to</div>
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nine strategically-placed jacks that raise the house.</div>
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Each time the house is raised about 12-15 inches, the house must be re-supported</div>
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so the jacks can be lowered and repositioned for the next stage of the lift.</div>
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Once the house reaches about ten feet,</div>
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a new footing must be prepared for a new foundation</div>
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before the house can be lowered to its new final position..</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YYBP_O_HcG8/U2bu4pYAh3I/AAAAAAAABk8/-TYX9-TV-Tk/s1600/13+Tim+trench+for+footing.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YYBP_O_HcG8/U2bu4pYAh3I/AAAAAAAABk8/-TYX9-TV-Tk/s1600/13+Tim+trench+for+footing.tiff" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
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Spiral pilings are screwed into the ground</div>
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to a depth of ten-feet before the concrete footing can be poured. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y0AzFCBhbsc/U2bvHjDHQLI/AAAAAAAABlM/79_KI1b7ATU/s1600/15+Tim+spiral+piling.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y0AzFCBhbsc/U2bvHjDHQLI/AAAAAAAABlM/79_KI1b7ATU/s1600/15+Tim+spiral+piling.tiff" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
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The tops of the pilings can be seen in the photo below</div>
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after they have been driven into the ground.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Iiykxole738/U2bvaEQM-KI/AAAAAAAABlc/nfckZD9YJXs/s1600/17+Tim+pilings+in+ground.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Iiykxole738/U2bvaEQM-KI/AAAAAAAABlc/nfckZD9YJXs/s1600/17+Tim+pilings+in+ground.tiff" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hiTx3K3arE8/U2bvjSzyAuI/AAAAAAAABlk/zzlAHlBVKnE/s1600/18+Tim+more+rebar+in+forms.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hiTx3K3arE8/U2bvjSzyAuI/AAAAAAAABlk/zzlAHlBVKnE/s1600/18+Tim+more+rebar+in+forms.tiff" height="301" width="400" /></a></div>
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The new footing forms receive rebar to reinforce</div>
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the new concrete.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UcnpUxiWrdc/U2bvq8ErmsI/AAAAAAAABls/K3kmWhgRAQg/s1600/19+Tim+cement+&+rebar+in+footing.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UcnpUxiWrdc/U2bvq8ErmsI/AAAAAAAABls/K3kmWhgRAQg/s1600/19+Tim+cement+&+rebar+in+footing.tiff" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
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Vertical rebar is added to reinforce the concrete</div>
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that will be poured into the foundation forms.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OwfG3M2ElWU/U2bv8fxCmEI/AAAAAAAABl0/ZGRPaIXZ5LE/s1600/20+Tim+foundation+forms+empty.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OwfG3M2ElWU/U2bv8fxCmEI/AAAAAAAABl0/ZGRPaIXZ5LE/s1600/20+Tim+foundation+forms+empty.tiff" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
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After the foundation is complete, it must set up before</div>
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the house can be lowered and attached to it.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RJof31SaxCU/U2bwFHX0GcI/AAAAAAAABl8/EWRffzkxhm0/s1600/21+Tim+finished+foundation+wall.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RJof31SaxCU/U2bwFHX0GcI/AAAAAAAABl8/EWRffzkxhm0/s1600/21+Tim+finished+foundation+wall.tiff" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pMZCUraaulE/U2bwPTsSK0I/AAAAAAAABmE/IGLJL61OMoY/s1600/22+Left+front+done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pMZCUraaulE/U2bwPTsSK0I/AAAAAAAABmE/IGLJL61OMoY/s1600/22+Left+front+done.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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With the house finally reattached to the new foundation,</div>
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the interior and exterior can be rebuilt.</div>
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Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-15195352579552112062013-01-11T09:08:00.003-05:002014-07-06T08:07:17.404-04:00Long Beach (1-10-13) Sandy Clean-Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Superstorm Sandy damaged Long Beach,</div>
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on Long Island's south shore, very badly.</div>
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Many homes, apartments and condos</div>
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are still without electric or heat</div>
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and need serious structural repairs.</div>
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a 13 to 17-foot storm surge deposited</div>
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beach sand over a foot deep throughout</div>
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the streets. The boardwalk, originally</div>
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built in 1914, has withstood many</div>
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hurricanes but Sandy was too much</div>
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for it to bear. It was so badly damaged</div>
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that it's being demolished and a</div>
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new one will be built in its place.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Click on any photo to enlarge it.)</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KO8cnHDxotc/UPAZqutL5hI/AAAAAAAABfo/V6lfcFvL3QQ/s1600/01+West+End+(New+York+Ave.).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KO8cnHDxotc/UPAZqutL5hI/AAAAAAAABfo/V6lfcFvL3QQ/s320/01+West+End+(New+York+Ave.).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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The extreme west end of the boardwalk</div>
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(New York Avenue),</div>
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where I used to go with my parents</div>
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most summer weekends, when I was a child.</div>
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The demolition has progressed about a</div>
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quarter-mile east from the extreme west end.</div>
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The concrete supports seem to be in</div>
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good shape and will probably be reused.</div>
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A workman salvages some of the benches</div>
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The concrete roof (part of the boardwalk)</div>
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Many benches were donated by local or</div>
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past residents in honor of their loved ones.</div>
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A 4 x 12 support beam was twisted &</div>
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Sand being cleaned of debris.</div>
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Clean sand being put back on the beach.</div>
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Trucks distribute the clean sand to</div>
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<br />Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-3665399821210596202011-09-25T11:30:00.037-04:002011-09-25T17:01:44.714-04:00The High Line, New York City, 2011<div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 14.0px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;">Once upon a time, there existed an elevated rail line that served the lower-to-mid Manhattan west side, and the meat packing industries that flourished there. At certain locations, the rail line actually went through buildings to make loading and unloading the rail cars easier. Completed in 1934, the freight line eventually became obsolete and the southernmost section of elevated track was torn down in 1960. The final train, carrying frozen turkeys, made its run on the remaining track in 1980.</span></span></span></p></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-404escDPckQ/Tn9WwElsE3I/AAAAAAAABQo/2Vuo72K_h6M/s400/18%2Bfrom%2Bstreet%2Bview.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656335040866161522" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><div style="text-align: center; "><i>All photos © 2011 by Ken Bausert</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>unless otherwise noted.</i></div></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">Considered a useless relic and eyesore by many, there were lots of people who wanted to tear the rest of the structure – from just below 14<sup>th</sup> to 34<sup>th</sup> Streets – down in the 1990s. Fortunately, city government red tape and lack of funding delayed any demolition and today, the remaining portion of the elevated railway has morphed into New York City’s newest tourist attraction and neighborhood park: The High Line Park. Some unique views of New York City are now enjoyed by residents and visitors alike.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Recently, National Geographic Magazine published a great article on the park in its April, 2011, issue (some of the facts mentioned here are gleaned from that text). The first section of The High Line, running south to north, just west of 10<sup>th</sup> Avenue, from Gansevoort Street to 20<sup>th</sup></span> Street, was opened to the public in June, 2009 (the remaining section, up to 30th Street, opened this past summer of 2011). After reading the Nat Geo piece, Ro and I decided to pay a visit to the park and enlisted some friends to join us; the photos displayed here are from two separate visits.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Myriad Pro';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">(As always, click on any photo to enlarge it;</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Myriad Pro';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">click on it a second time to further enlarge it.)</span></span></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vh8PaEuaIlM/Tn9WrQrhBYI/AAAAAAAABQg/D71g3UYkaTQ/s1600/17%2Bbeginning%2Bfrom%2Bstreet.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vh8PaEuaIlM/Tn9WrQrhBYI/AAAAAAAABQg/D71g3UYkaTQ/s400/17%2Bbeginning%2Bfrom%2Bstreet.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334958212482434" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Above: the northern terminus, at 30th Street.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a6KSa7JVIoQ/Tn9WmHS6yEI/AAAAAAAABQY/tFMi07orASc/s1600/16%2B30th%2BStreet.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a6KSa7JVIoQ/Tn9WmHS6yEI/AAAAAAAABQY/tFMi07orASc/s400/16%2B30th%2BStreet.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334869794048066" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Above: looking down at 30th Street from the</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>northern terminus.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>What follows are assorted photos from</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>along the High Line Walk;</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I don't think any descriptions are needed.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rXXMyth1n8A/Tn9Whr4eDVI/AAAAAAAABQQ/FaJn0wmvxj8/s1600/15%2Bodd%2Bbldg.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rXXMyth1n8A/Tn9Whr4eDVI/AAAAAAAABQQ/FaJn0wmvxj8/s400/15%2Bodd%2Bbldg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334793715879250" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HRDgJOLupoQ/Tn9Wah5GzYI/AAAAAAAABQI/ljxJyVTuV-M/s1600/14%2Bstreet%2Bscene.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HRDgJOLupoQ/Tn9Wah5GzYI/AAAAAAAABQI/ljxJyVTuV-M/s400/14%2Bstreet%2Bscene.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334670775111042" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qdVGdhGw04Q/Tn9WTQfAvkI/AAAAAAAABQA/ro2_0GVL5N0/s1600/13%2Bwide%2Barea.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qdVGdhGw04Q/Tn9WTQfAvkI/AAAAAAAABQA/ro2_0GVL5N0/s400/13%2Bwide%2Barea.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334545843174978" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: justify; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal 'Myriad Pro'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;">A concrete paved surface winds its way among wild flowers, trees, and shrubs, just a stone’s throw from old and new buildings housing families and businesses on either side. I understand that some local residents are less than pleased with this new lack of privacy, however.</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: justify; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal 'Myriad Pro'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p></span></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nCQcsCYsHQY/Tn9WNcAV7hI/AAAAAAAABP4/lcHdTqTAoHM/s1600/10%2Bon%2Btracks.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nCQcsCYsHQY/Tn9WNcAV7hI/AAAAAAAABP4/lcHdTqTAoHM/s400/10%2Bon%2Btracks.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334445856550418" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3DWKbF-i6FQ/Tn9WIt9UoTI/AAAAAAAABPw/3mrc8elrfOA/s1600/9%2BEmpire%2BSt%2BBldg.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3DWKbF-i6FQ/Tn9WIt9UoTI/AAAAAAAABPw/3mrc8elrfOA/s400/9%2BEmpire%2BSt%2BBldg.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334364776374578" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cybwiT4akds/Tn9WDdI_v9I/AAAAAAAABPo/OOqMgmWra4I/s1600/8%2BAccross%2Bthe%2Bcity.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cybwiT4akds/Tn9WDdI_v9I/AAAAAAAABPo/OOqMgmWra4I/s400/8%2BAccross%2Bthe%2Bcity.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334274362589138" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IsPyHKVfNho/Tn9V8w-4Y9I/AAAAAAAABPg/IY-wXenHUpE/s1600/11%2BDown%2Bstreet%2Bto%2Briver.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IsPyHKVfNho/Tn9V8w-4Y9I/AAAAAAAABPg/IY-wXenHUpE/s400/11%2BDown%2Bstreet%2Bto%2Briver.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334159429788626" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W-4WnHZGyVk/Tn9V2cSVnvI/AAAAAAAABPY/0yotWs7SJAo/s1600/7%2BThe%2Bpiers.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W-4WnHZGyVk/Tn9V2cSVnvI/AAAAAAAABPY/0yotWs7SJAo/s400/7%2BThe%2Bpiers.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656334050795036402" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L0wYOUQegrQ/Tn9Vwdu4_LI/AAAAAAAABPQ/gyFK6ZFucAo/s1600/12%2Bold%2Bchurch.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L0wYOUQegrQ/Tn9Vwdu4_LI/AAAAAAAABPQ/gyFK6ZFucAo/s400/12%2Bold%2Bchurch.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656333948104015026" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cQ-EMoqy03w/Tn9VoEV8BgI/AAAAAAAABPI/yu9MSUkr-0I/s1600/6%2BLooking%2Bnorth.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cQ-EMoqy03w/Tn9VoEV8BgI/AAAAAAAABPI/yu9MSUkr-0I/s400/6%2BLooking%2Bnorth.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656333803849516546" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SpdIZE1va68/Tn9VbXZDI4I/AAAAAAAABPA/V8RSXAm8fzQ/s1600/5%2BLooking%2Bsouth.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SpdIZE1va68/Tn9VbXZDI4I/AAAAAAAABPA/V8RSXAm8fzQ/s400/5%2BLooking%2Bsouth.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656333585624540034" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hA_9lBJBhRU/Tn9VV-vUNaI/AAAAAAAABO4/JzocfQJarNI/s1600/4%2Bwhite%2Btree.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hA_9lBJBhRU/Tn9VV-vUNaI/AAAAAAAABO4/JzocfQJarNI/s400/4%2Bwhite%2Btree.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656333493107701154" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nG-27iawtpE/Tn9VPwfc9QI/AAAAAAAABOw/jSef17ozLt8/s1600/3%2BBusking.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nG-27iawtpE/Tn9VPwfc9QI/AAAAAAAABOw/jSef17ozLt8/s400/3%2BBusking.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656333386203854082" /></a><div><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Jl4GX0GelI/Tn9UmTOFuZI/AAAAAAAABOQ/D3Lv0SWq9L8/s1600/2%2Bnew%2Bgroup%2Bphoto.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Jl4GX0GelI/Tn9UmTOFuZI/AAAAAAAABOQ/D3Lv0SWq9L8/s400/2%2Bnew%2Bgroup%2Bphoto.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656332673971763602" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>First visit on May 29, 2011 with </i><i>(left to right):</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Ken, Eileen, </i><i>Doris, Ro, Jim, and Bob.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qrg9INuHAho/Tn9UgfUhvwI/AAAAAAAABOI/nMabTv8w69Q/s1600/1%2Bhigh%2Bschool%2Bgroup.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qrg9INuHAho/Tn9UgfUhvwI/AAAAAAAABOI/nMabTv8w69Q/s400/1%2Bhigh%2Bschool%2Bgroup.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656332574140776194" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Second visit on July 2, 2011 with (left to right):</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Ken, Dottie, Bill, Fran, and Fred</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>(Ro took the photo).</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1YZDdlb7aM/Tn9UZxVtIgI/AAAAAAAABOA/m8FA0nYby18/s1600/0%2BHolland%2BTunnel%2Bvents.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1YZDdlb7aM/Tn9UZxVtIgI/AAAAAAAABOA/m8FA0nYby18/s400/0%2BHolland%2BTunnel%2Bvents.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656332458718470658" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>After exiting the High Line at its southern terminus,</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>it's a short walk west to the Hudson River and</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Riverside Park, from where you can see the air</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>vents </i><i>for the Holland Tunnel rising</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>above the river </i><i>near Canal Street.</i></div></div>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-27487071302081743582011-06-24T22:23:00.044-04:002011-09-25T17:01:01.328-04:00February Getaway to St. Maarten<div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I've finally gotten around to posting some photos from our February, 2011 trip to the French/Dutch island of St. Martin/St. Maarten. I won't bore you with lots of historical facts and everything we did on a day-to-day basis but simply annotate each photo, to let you know what & where everything is. If you really want to know more about St. Maarten, you can easily check it out on the internet. However, if anyone has any questions (or wants tips) on visiting the island, I'd be glad to answer/provide them.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As always, comments are welcome and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>click on any image to enlarge it</i>.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Click on it a second time to further enlarge it.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></span><div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I0zL18ex2qU/Tg3r3DIvprI/AAAAAAAABBg/riS02VYRNbU/s1600/1%2BSt.%2BMaarten.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I0zL18ex2qU/Tg3r3DIvprI/AAAAAAAABBg/riS02VYRNbU/s400/1%2BSt.%2BMaarten.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624410840622933682" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">View of (mostly) the Dutch (southern) side of the island from my window on the plane.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3_jAlg_aPcM/Tg3q_kPJQyI/AAAAAAAABBQ/Vyg4um8NlOA/s1600/2A%2BPhilipsburg%2Bfrom%2Bair.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3_jAlg_aPcM/Tg3q_kPJQyI/AAAAAAAABBQ/Vyg4um8NlOA/s400/2A%2BPhilipsburg%2Bfrom%2Bair.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409887435473698" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Close-up of Philipsburg, the capital of the Dutch side.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mI61nO4rhys/Tg3q6yCvxLI/AAAAAAAABBI/Ur9zOakTv58/s1600/2B%2Bcruise%2Bships%2Bfrom%2Bair.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mI61nO4rhys/Tg3q6yCvxLI/AAAAAAAABBI/Ur9zOakTv58/s400/2B%2Bcruise%2Bships%2Bfrom%2Bair.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409805242221746" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The port on Great Bay, Philipsburg, where the cruise ships dock.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wui7v8qjp3c/Tg3q1p6RI_I/AAAAAAAABBA/pW1_W-0DaFA/s1600/3%2BOur%2Bvilla.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wui7v8qjp3c/Tg3q1p6RI_I/AAAAAAAABBA/pW1_W-0DaFA/s400/3%2BOur%2Bvilla.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409717159830514" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Our villa (first building on left, second floor,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">overlooking Great Bay)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">at the Divi Little Bay Resort.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_QDmwJVEVkA/Tg3qw1UA2pI/AAAAAAAABA4/wDiMQsLEpZI/s1600/4%2BOver%2Bour%2Bvilla.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_QDmwJVEVkA/Tg3qw1UA2pI/AAAAAAAABA4/wDiMQsLEpZI/s400/4%2BOver%2Bour%2Bvilla.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409634321259154" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">View looking over our villa (building in center of photo).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5oZtz1cYUSQ/Tg3qq0cTtzI/AAAAAAAABAw/Q9l5PwLZyrY/s1600/5%2Bbalcony%2Bview.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5oZtz1cYUSQ/Tg3qq0cTtzI/AAAAAAAABAw/Q9l5PwLZyrY/s400/5%2Bbalcony%2Bview.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409531008399154" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">View from the balcony of our villa.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eTjv_OevMzA/Tg3qmEG9kPI/AAAAAAAABAo/NeZeJVo-Y3Q/s1600/6A%2Btwo%2Bsailboats.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eTjv_OevMzA/Tg3qmEG9kPI/AAAAAAAABAo/NeZeJVo-Y3Q/s400/6A%2Btwo%2Bsailboats.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409449314488562" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">View from our balcony.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sjaKHbI3GB4/Tg3qhP5leZI/AAAAAAAABAg/L4HvEeYcs9o/s1600/6B%2Bcruise%2Bship%2Bapproaching.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 232px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sjaKHbI3GB4/Tg3qhP5leZI/AAAAAAAABAg/L4HvEeYcs9o/s400/6B%2Bcruise%2Bship%2Bapproaching.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409366580263314" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Looking toward the cruise ship docks on the other side of Great Bay,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">from our balcony, with a ship approaching (on the right).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m5es6SZ639s/Tg3qbsE86wI/AAAAAAAABAY/ps3VP_Beq0Y/s1600/6C%2Bcruise%2Bships%2Bat%2Bdock.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m5es6SZ639s/Tg3qbsE86wI/AAAAAAAABAY/ps3VP_Beq0Y/s400/6C%2Bcruise%2Bships%2Bat%2Bdock.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409271064914690" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Telephoto shot from our balcony.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EYaB1A0V_Ws/Tg3qT0K7G9I/AAAAAAAABAQ/hPa28fPvl7E/s1600/7%2Bsmall%2Binfinity%2Bpool.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EYaB1A0V_Ws/Tg3qT0K7G9I/AAAAAAAABAQ/hPa28fPvl7E/s400/7%2Bsmall%2Binfinity%2Bpool.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409135798492114" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Small infinity pool at east end of Divi property,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">overlooking Little Bay in background.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X4cxlm-oL5k/Tg3qO2Ylh4I/AAAAAAAABAI/BQ9cyCWHu7k/s1600/8%2BFort%2BAmsterdam%2Bcanon.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 254px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X4cxlm-oL5k/Tg3qO2Ylh4I/AAAAAAAABAI/BQ9cyCWHu7k/s400/8%2BFort%2BAmsterdam%2Bcanon.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624409050493323138" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">View from old Fort Amsterdam, at the tip of the Divi property,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">overlooking Little Bay.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HiX7IVoyOSg/Tg3qICUP_YI/AAAAAAAABAA/kKzLwv9GLaI/s1600/9%2Bbeachside%2Bcafe.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HiX7IVoyOSg/Tg3qICUP_YI/AAAAAAAABAA/kKzLwv9GLaI/s400/9%2Bbeachside%2Bcafe.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408933437275522" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Looking toward the east end of the property from Gizmo's Beachside Café.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MVYmnhQ0CwA/Tg3p8BTBvLI/AAAAAAAAA_4/pZlF3hynO0A/s1600/10%2BGizmo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MVYmnhQ0CwA/Tg3p8BTBvLI/AAAAAAAAA_4/pZlF3hynO0A/s400/10%2BGizmo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408727005281458" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Gizmo (the mascot of the beachside café).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vcgZ3e1DcHY/Tg3p1LjceVI/AAAAAAAAA_w/NtA5hnurbVc/s1600/11%2BDivi%2BBeach%2Beast.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 244px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vcgZ3e1DcHY/Tg3p1LjceVI/AAAAAAAAA_w/NtA5hnurbVc/s400/11%2BDivi%2BBeach%2Beast.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408609499412818" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Looking west along the Divi beach on Little Bay.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-PGIxhxJgk/Tg3pwNEhF6I/AAAAAAAAA_o/hTpfkFF0rBY/s1600/12%2BDivi%2Bbeach.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-PGIxhxJgk/Tg3pwNEhF6I/AAAAAAAAA_o/hTpfkFF0rBY/s400/12%2BDivi%2Bbeach.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408524007217058" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Looking east along the Divi beach.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EnizpW149G4/Tg3pp8o6IgI/AAAAAAAAA_g/GhpbuNvuqJQ/s1600/13%2Bpoolside%2Bcafe.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EnizpW149G4/Tg3pp8o6IgI/AAAAAAAAA_g/GhpbuNvuqJQ/s400/13%2Bpoolside%2Bcafe.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408416517235202" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A poolside café toward the east end of the property.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E6Zmq4ZRBJ4/Tg3pjOBk4RI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/7IC9tVZqEco/s1600/14%2BRo%2B%2526%2BKen%2Bat%2Bbar.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E6Zmq4ZRBJ4/Tg3pjOBk4RI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/7IC9tVZqEco/s400/14%2BRo%2B%2526%2BKen%2Bat%2Bbar.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408300925018386" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Happy Hour at Gizmo's café with Ken & Ro.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nqZYbESHCJA/Tg3pd-M1mKI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/NqyNX9rZIOA/s1600/15%2Breflections.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nqZYbESHCJA/Tg3pd-M1mKI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/NqyNX9rZIOA/s400/15%2Breflections.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408210777938082" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Villas at the east end of the property, photographed</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">while standing chest-high in the water, late in the day.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tq0oVxIHDSU/Tg3pYjwwETI/AAAAAAAAA_I/uN7qFoEXjiY/s1600/16%2Bsunset%2B1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tq0oVxIHDSU/Tg3pYjwwETI/AAAAAAAAA_I/uN7qFoEXjiY/s400/16%2Bsunset%2B1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408117781467442" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Sunset, viewed from Gizmo's Café.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xlx9fk9RaMg/Tg3pUc88GEI/AAAAAAAAA_A/Wlh8Y-2nsxw/s1600/17%2Bsunset%2B2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xlx9fk9RaMg/Tg3pUc88GEI/AAAAAAAAA_A/Wlh8Y-2nsxw/s400/17%2Bsunset%2B2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624408047234062402" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Same sunset, a little later.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wi0uSH9qkKM/Tg3pPPjcS2I/AAAAAAAAA-4/wLjzQtvmdgA/s1600/18%2Bwatching%2Bsunset.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wi0uSH9qkKM/Tg3pPPjcS2I/AAAAAAAAA-4/wLjzQtvmdgA/s400/18%2Bwatching%2Bsunset.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407957738113890" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Three people watch another sunset, while sitting on the edge of a pool.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7UelF4jkWbs/Tg3pJptK-mI/AAAAAAAAA-w/pl8tFVJRblg/s1600/19%2BPhilipsburg%2Bstreet.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7UelF4jkWbs/Tg3pJptK-mI/AAAAAAAAA-w/pl8tFVJRblg/s400/19%2BPhilipsburg%2Bstreet.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407861679028834" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Front Street, the old main street in Philipsburg.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i0xCeAQibMQ/Tg3pEn0ePZI/AAAAAAAAA-o/EOMTh9qhLCY/s1600/20%2Bl%2527esgargot%2Brestaurant.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i0xCeAQibMQ/Tg3pEn0ePZI/AAAAAAAAA-o/EOMTh9qhLCY/s400/20%2Bl%2527esgargot%2Brestaurant.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407775273434514" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Brightly-colored restaurant, typical of the</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Caribbean island style, in Philipsburg.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rqfbDH-OzBk/Tg3o_HTGDjI/AAAAAAAAA-g/MC1OTnBY4LQ/s1600/21%2BCourthouse.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rqfbDH-OzBk/Tg3o_HTGDjI/AAAAAAAAA-g/MC1OTnBY4LQ/s400/21%2BCourthouse.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407680644156978" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Old courthouse in Philipsburg.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dTPOpkd2zr0/Tg3o6DxjprI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/m7EwArqplIA/s1600/22%2BSegways.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 244px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dTPOpkd2zr0/Tg3o6DxjprI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/m7EwArqplIA/s400/22%2BSegways.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407593798837938" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Visitors take a Segway tour of "boardwalk"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">along side the beach in Philipsburg.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-suA4RnZR6Ag/Tg3o0VsvmvI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/l2HoTHR77m0/s1600/23%2Bsmall%2Bchurch.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-suA4RnZR6Ag/Tg3o0VsvmvI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/l2HoTHR77m0/s400/23%2Bsmall%2Bchurch.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407495531272946" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Historic old church in Philipsburg.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JGR4Se3kap4/Tg3oujHd5QI/AAAAAAAAA-I/w8HiSfBbomU/s1600/24A%2Bnorth%2Bside.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JGR4Se3kap4/Tg3oujHd5QI/AAAAAAAAA-I/w8HiSfBbomU/s400/24A%2Bnorth%2Bside.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407396053804290" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Public beach area on the northeast (French) side of the island,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">with fog and rain clouds threatening.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o5SmQ6qRlgM/Tg3oo2oQo0I/AAAAAAAAA-A/p_fHIYJh3Gw/s1600/24B%2Ble%2BGalion%2Bbeach.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 236px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o5SmQ6qRlgM/Tg3oo2oQo0I/AAAAAAAAA-A/p_fHIYJh3Gw/s400/24B%2Ble%2BGalion%2Bbeach.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407298212406082" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Le Gallion Beach, on the north (French) coast of the island.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NWKozb-i-08/Tg3ojECVwmI/AAAAAAAAA94/XsSDy1vsvOo/s1600/24C%2BLeGalion%2Bfar%2Bside.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NWKozb-i-08/Tg3ojECVwmI/AAAAAAAAA94/XsSDy1vsvOo/s400/24C%2BLeGalion%2Bfar%2Bside.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407198732239458" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Looking back at the beach seen in the previous shot</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">from the other side of the lagoon.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jZdXDOKGsBs/Tg3ob6PFZ8I/AAAAAAAAA9w/C7G-WpCuGXw/s1600/25%2Bboat%2Bin%2BLe%2BGalion.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jZdXDOKGsBs/Tg3ob6PFZ8I/AAAAAAAAA9w/C7G-WpCuGXw/s400/25%2Bboat%2Bin%2BLe%2BGalion.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624407075842254786" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Looking across the lagoon at Le Gallion Beach</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">as rain clouds threaten.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lU8MtxexIlY/Tg3oPY1ed6I/AAAAAAAAA9o/gIHnQ6isGIg/s1600/26%2Bvolcanic%2Brock.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lU8MtxexIlY/Tg3oPY1ed6I/AAAAAAAAA9o/gIHnQ6isGIg/s400/26%2Bvolcanic%2Brock.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624406860718045090" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Heavily pock-marked volcanic rock</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">on the extreme north coast of the island,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">just past Le Gallion Beach.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-22SsR7dvThU/Tg3oJZbdlaI/AAAAAAAAA9g/ELZisVHKzLM/s1600/27%2Bee%2Bbest.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-22SsR7dvThU/Tg3oJZbdlaI/AAAAAAAAA9g/ELZisVHKzLM/s400/27%2Bee%2Bbest.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624406757798155682" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Breakfast at Zee Best on the way to the airport</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">before heading home. (GREAT pastries!)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-8480199674494392362011-05-20T23:29:00.008-04:002011-05-20T23:49:10.392-04:00Jeanne Dippel - Gallery Show<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Jeanne Dippel, a family friend and former neighbor,</div><div style="text-align: center;">has been pursuing her dream of becoming an artist,</div><div style="text-align: center;">using charcoal on paper.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> She recently had a show of her work in a gallery</div><div style="text-align: center;">at C.W. Post College, in Brookville, New York.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The theme of her collection was,</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"Women of Distinction, </i><i>Portraits in Charcoal,"</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">and included beautiful renditions of people like</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mother Theresa, Oprah Winfrey, and Marilyn Monroe (below).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(Click on any image to enlarge.)</span></i></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZSPH0y0Fnjo/Tdcyau6EU-I/AAAAAAAAA5E/yspx0qurDLA/s1600/Jeanne%2B%2526%2BMarilyn.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZSPH0y0Fnjo/Tdcyau6EU-I/AAAAAAAAA5E/yspx0qurDLA/s320/Jeanne%2B%2526%2BMarilyn.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609007295762813922" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Jeanne stands by one of her personal favorites,</div><div style="text-align: center;">a drawing of Annie Oakley (below).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BOAXzKG3dgM/TdcyVESYL5I/AAAAAAAAA48/wY1zcmGjGCI/s1600/Jeanne%2B%2526%2BAnnie.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BOAXzKG3dgM/TdcyVESYL5I/AAAAAAAAA48/wY1zcmGjGCI/s320/Jeanne%2B%2526%2BAnnie.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609007198422708114" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Jeanne's works are available for sale;</div><div style="text-align: center;">if interested, please leave a message in</div><div style="text-align: center;">the comments section of this blog</div><div style="text-align: center;">and I will forward all inquiries to Jeanne.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rWcbQftbN28/TdcyNVzsuoI/AAAAAAAAA40/xhiDRA0Bpo8/s1600/Jeanne%2Btext.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rWcbQftbN28/TdcyNVzsuoI/AAAAAAAAA40/xhiDRA0Bpo8/s320/Jeanne%2Btext.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609007065686915714" /></a><br /></div>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-54287378350929661492011-03-11T16:53:00.007-05:002011-03-11T17:06:33.898-05:00Louis' Lunch, New Haven, CT<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">While staying at our daughter's place in Wallingford, Connecticut, we drove about a half-hour to New Haven to visit a place I had seen on one of those Diners, Dives, & Drive-ins shows on tv. It was Louis’ Lunch, a tiny brick building at 261-263 Crown Street, amidst the tall office buildings and condos of downtown New Haven.</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-chArcNuVpHU/TXqbLZkcAaI/AAAAAAAAA2k/Euf93qmkO2I/s400/*Louis%2BLunch%2B1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582945308223734178" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In existence since 1898, it is supposedly the birthplace of the hamburger. The current owner is Jeff Lassen, grandson of the founder, Louis Lassen; he operates the place much as it’s been run for over a hundred years.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BqXrX9ChzPY/TXqcC33mkTI/AAAAAAAAA28/yry6MvPPFzM/s400/*burger%2Bgrilles.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582946261249986866" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The menu is quite limited: a five-dollar burger, which is still cooked–vertically–in the same cast-iron gas grilles that date to the nineteenth century; potato salad, $4; a bag of chips, $2; piece of pie, $4; and soda, Snapple or water for $2 or 3. The only things available to put on your burger are cheese, tomato, and onion (no ketchup or mustard); the opinion being that if it’s a freshly made burger, using prime meat, you don’t need catchup or mustard to make it taste better. As a matter of fact, there’s a sign on the wall that says, “This isn’t Burger King. You can’t have it your way. You have it my way or you can’t have the damn thing.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In spite of this attitude, the place has a huge following (plus crazy people like me who come from all over to check it out) and, in the 1970s–when the place was threatened with demolition–a new location was found and the building moved to preserve it. People from all over donated bricks to help rebuild what was lost in the move.</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8e3vvSlex3M/TXqbjII-9CI/AAAAAAAAA2s/oiox2gd9y-0/s400/*Counter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582945715862041634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px; " /></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3k7VMNRcayo/TXqcWAglEWI/AAAAAAAAA3E/luFsLQLQE40/s400/*More%2Bpeople.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582946589986853218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mXSTiF-u_7s/TXqb00F4q9I/AAAAAAAAA20/MlvvG2T_qu8/s400/*Seating.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582946019717983186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So, what’s my take on the place? Well, the burgers were very good, but overpriced considering the size. Your choices are limited, it’s extremely small inside with very little seating area, and very noisy with customers calling out their orders and Jeff shouting to the grille man. So, it’s not the best dining experience in the world.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 10.5px 'Myriad Pro'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But Louis’ Lunch is a landmark; it’s a part of New Haven folklore. And it’s certainly a unique experience.</span></p>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-54459895602441474002010-09-19T22:55:00.011-04:002010-09-19T23:23:18.109-04:00Todd Rundgren at Morristown, NJ 9-15-2010<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbSxXM-1NI/AAAAAAAAArc/hgA8v50TSTo/s1600/*DSCF5894.jpg"></a><div>This year (2010), veteran rock & roll icon Todd Rundgren went out on tour and performed two of his classic albums-in their entirety-for his fans, some of whom travel around the country to see as many shows as they can. The TODD album, from 1974, was originally released on two LPs while HEALING came out in 1981 (and included a bonus 45 rpm record in the package with the LP).</div><div><br /></div><div>Rundgren and his touring band appeared at the Community Theater at Mayo Center for the Performing Arts in Morristown, NJ, on the evening of Wednesday, September 15th. Some attendees traveled from as far away as Boston and Georgia to catch this show, confirming Todd's cult fan following.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbSxXM-1NI/AAAAAAAAArc/hgA8v50TSTo/s320/*DSCF5894.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518830138873009362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>The following photos were shot with a Fujifilm S8000, using its zoom/telephoto lens to fill the frame from a seat five rows back in the front balcony. As always, click on any photo to enlarge it.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbOiOphzmI/AAAAAAAAArU/HaNrhe3imcY/s1600/*DSCF5896.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbOiOphzmI/AAAAAAAAArU/HaNrhe3imcY/s320/*DSCF5896.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825480832274018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbOdgoC10I/AAAAAAAAArM/367ENoQxrWU/s1600/*DSCF5899.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbOdgoC10I/AAAAAAAAArM/367ENoQxrWU/s320/*DSCF5899.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825399758542658" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbOYP8tzFI/AAAAAAAAArE/BsI81sbTvOE/s1600/*DSCF5908.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbOYP8tzFI/AAAAAAAAArE/BsI81sbTvOE/s320/*DSCF5908.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825309382495314" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbOT8BXCeI/AAAAAAAAAq8/sauzCTaopsI/s1600/*DSCF5911.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbOT8BXCeI/AAAAAAAAAq8/sauzCTaopsI/s320/*DSCF5911.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825235313789410" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbNwGWlwVI/AAAAAAAAAqs/R5gwqjoNp6E/s1600/*DSCF5916.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbNwGWlwVI/AAAAAAAAAqs/R5gwqjoNp6E/s320/*DSCF5916.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518824619611898194" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbNa-l6oZI/AAAAAAAAAqk/0xyXDBWt0nE/s1600/*DSCF5926.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TJbNa-l6oZI/AAAAAAAAAqk/0xyXDBWt0nE/s320/*DSCF5926.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518824256751444370" /></a>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-45451538961818876242010-08-17T23:29:00.008-04:002010-08-17T23:55:19.595-04:00Paul's "Da Burger Joint"<div>The next time you're in New York City and are in the mood for a really great burger, head on over to the Lower East Side and stop in at Paul's "Da Burger Joint." Located at 131 2nd Avenue (between 7th & 8th Streets) you'll find some of the biggest and tastiest burgers in the city.</div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>(Click on any image to enlarge it.)</i></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TGtUMaUl4qI/AAAAAAAAAoA/leuMixB7oKs/s1600/outside+Paul%27s.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TGtUMaUl4qI/AAAAAAAAAoA/leuMixB7oKs/s320/outside+Paul%27s.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506587541591417506" /></a>One day this past February, Ro & I took our grandkids into Manhattan for the day. While we were walking about the East Village, I spotted Paul's place around lunchtime, so we decided to give it a try.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TGtUJPGqRAI/AAAAAAAAAn4/YZrcC0g5rio/s1600/inside+Paul%27s+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TGtUJPGqRAI/AAAAAAAAAn4/YZrcC0g5rio/s320/inside+Paul%27s+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506587487040586754" /></a>Some of the unexpected extras inside were the old-time photos and posters. In addition, the owner must be a big Yankees fan 'cause each table is named for a member of the team (or, in Joe Torre's case, an <i>ex</i>-member).</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TGtUD2kHlzI/AAAAAAAAAnw/YG1XjTtnOIQ/s1600/inside+Paul%27s+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TGtUD2kHlzI/AAAAAAAAAnw/YG1XjTtnOIQ/s320/inside+Paul%27s+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506587394553911090" /></a>Somewhere beneath the lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions & cheese is a very large and very tasty burger, surrounded by steak fries. They also serve other fine diner-type fare like sandwiches, soups & salads.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TGtT-i9M9aI/AAAAAAAAAno/ClwDArkuA3o/s1600/da+burger.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/TGtT-i9M9aI/AAAAAAAAAno/ClwDArkuA3o/s320/da+burger.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506587303391065506" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">For more information and additional photos, click on the link below:<a href="http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/7087467/new_york_ny/paul_s_place.html#profileTab-photos"></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a href="http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/7087467/new_york_ny/paul_s_place.html#profileTab-photos">http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/7087467/new_york_ny/paul_s_place.html#profileTab-photos</a></span></div>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-80431314397951781762010-01-23T22:18:00.010-05:002023-01-17T12:17:54.150-05:00Runaway Toyotas & Audis<p><span style="font-size: 130%;">
A few months ago, I read a story about Toyota owners who claim they experienced "unintended acceleration," otherwise known as a "runaway" condition. In simple terms, the car took off without the driver stepping on the gas or, it kept going after the driver took his/her foot off the accelerator pedal. Obviously, a very scary and dangerous situation.
Apparently, there were enough drivers reporting this scenario to force Toyota to issue a recall that affected 4.2 million vehicles. It required dealers to remove the floor mats from the affected vehicles and alter the gas pedals, the theory being that the gas pedal was getting caught on the floor mat and causing the engine to race.
This "fix" was found to be suspect; as ABC News reported on Jan. 21, 2010, </span><span style="font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;">"on the day after Christmas, four people died in Southlake, Texas, a suburb of Dallas, when a 2008 Toyota sped off the road, through a fence and landed upside down in a pond. The car's floor mats were found in the trunk of the car, where owners had been advised to put them as part of the recall."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">As some of my regular readers know, I was an auto mechanic (they're now called technicians) for twenty-eight years. During the late 1970s, the National Institute of Automotive Service Excellence (NIASE, later shortened to just ASE) began offering tests to certify technicians in eight different categories; I voluntarily took and passed 16 hours of tests to become certified in all categories. When my back began to give me trouble, I became a service manager and service advisor with several car dealers for another sixteen years until my retirement in 2006. The only reason I mention all of that here is to give you some idea of my background and experience.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">The problem Toyota (and their customers) are currently having could be caused by any one of a number of things. There are mechanical components (pedal, hinges or pivots, cables, links, etc.) and electrical components (sensors, switches, wiring, etc.) that could be at fault. Eventually, the problem will either be fixed by finding the faulty part and replacing it with something new or by changing parts until the condition no longer occurs.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">All of this seems eerily familiar to me and to anyone who owned an Audi 5000 back in the 1980s; sometime during those years, a similar condition was reportedly happening to those cars. I worked for a Porsche/Audi dealer from 1979 to 1990 and was a certified Porsche and Audi technician during that time when the problem first came to light. And, though I don't know too much about Toyotas, I DO know quite a bit about those Audis.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">I had never read anything in the newspapers about the "runaway" Audis that drivers claimed to have experienced until we received the first recall addressing the problem. We were told to remove the "Coco floor mats" (as they were called) and replace them with something new. The original floor mats, it seemed, were a kind of heavy woven substance resembling twine. When they got worn, from drivers' heels digging into them and pivoting between the accelerator and brake pedal, the strands became torn and very loose. The thought was that the gas pedal (which had a cylindrical metal knob on the underside) was getting caught in the worn floor mats.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">Around the time of the first recall, we were also instructed to check the accelerator cable and linkage for binding and insure that necessary points were lubricated properly to prevent sticking. It was also about that time when I first began hearing reports of people having serious "runaway" Audi problems. One owner supposedly ran through the back wall of her garage and seriously injured her own child on the other side. On another day, an Audi was brought in on a tow truck; the back of the car was smashed in so that the rear bumper was nearly even with the rear window. We were told the driver lost control and the car and fell backwards down several stories of an open elevator shaft in a parking garage.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">Shortly afterward, another recall was announced; this one had us putting a plastic shield on that cylindrical metal "knob" on the bottom of the gas pedal. Then, another one had us drilling two holes in the brake pedal and installing a one-inch "spacer" to make the surface higher. It was thought that the gas pedal and brake pedal were at roughly the same height and that people were confusing the two pedals, hitting the gas when they should have been stepping on the brake.
Throughout all of this, no one I knew (and none of my fellow technicians) had ever experienced a "runaway" condition on any of the cars we worked on... and, we worked on a LOT of Audi 5000s. In those days, those cars had a LOT of problems.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">Then, one day, I was handed the repair order for a customer's car to be worked on; there was no complaint of a "runaway" condition. It was brought in for other work (tune up, oil change, etc.) I found the car in our parking lot, got in and turned the key to start the car. I stepped on the brake and shifted the car from "park" to "drive." And, then it happened... the engine raced and the car lunged ahead. My immediate reaction was to press on the brake with both feet; that stopped the car with the engine under a full load. I didn't want to shift into "neutral" just yet because I didn't want to disturb anything without trying to find out why this happened. I bent over and extended my right arm down, grabbing the gas pedal with my right hand; it wasn't caught on anything. The pedal just flipped up and down as if it wasn't attached to anything. At that point, I turned the key and shut the engine off. I put the car back into "park" and restarted it; the engine was now running perfectly. I put the car into "drive" and drove the car as if nothing had ever happened.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">After bringing my "runaway" Audi into the shop, I reported what happened to my service manager. He, in turn, notified the main offices of Audi who sent a team of experts to the shop the next day. They went over every inch of that car but never found anything wrong with it and the car's owner never reported another problem with the accelerator.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">So, what do I think happened?
The way the accelerator was designed on the Audi 5000 was that a cable ran from the accelerator pedal down under the car to a lever on the outside of the transmission. From that lever, a metal rod ran up to the fuel injection throttle body on the top of the engine; the throttle body regulated how much air was mixed with fuel (from the fuel injectors) and, ultimately, how fast the engine would turn (and how fast the car would go).
The lever on the outside of the transmission was connected to another link on the inside; that was connected to the throttle valve in the valve body of the transmission. As you depressed the gas pedal, the throttle valve moved and caused the throttle pressure to increase inside the transmission. On the output shaft of the transmission was a governor; it was measuring the actual speed of the car and controlling the governor pressure inside the transmission. In simply terms, depending on the throttle pressure and the governor pressure, the car would shift from one gear to the next at different points. Got that so far?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">Now, the most obvious cause of a "runaway" Audi would have been if a large stick (or other debris) on the road got caught under the car and caused that solid rod (from the transmission lever to the throttle body) to be moved upward. That would have caused the throttle body to be moved to an accelerated position independent of the gas pedal. That did not happen to me on that car in the parking lot; there was no debris of any kind under the car and yet the pedal felt like it was not attached to anything.
(On Audis with Cruise Control, the accelerator linkage also passed through another part. Theoretically, a malfunction in<span style="font-style: italic;"> that </span>unit could have caused the accelerator link to the throttle body to stick as well. There was the possibility that a mechanical or electrical malfunction in the cruise control system could have caused the problem; but what about cars without cruise control?)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">My specialty as an Audi technician was rebuilding the transaxle assembly; this included the differential (final drive) and the previously mentioned transmission. These units were connected together and had one major flaw: fluid from the differential would leak into the transmission and contaminate the transmission fluid with gear oil. Most owners never knew anything was wrong until one day the transmission would just quit. There were a couple of other techs in the shop who repaired these transaxle assemblies but I believe I did 90 % of them. I probably averaged three transaxle overhauls per month for about eight of the eleven years I worked there (maybe 350 of them)! And, what I discovered during that time may well be the cause of the "runaway" Audis. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">Inside the transmission, the link that controlled the throttle valve was interlocked with it by way of a groove on the throttle valve that the link fit into. If you moved the gas pedal, the cable moved the (outside) lever and the (inside) link moved the throttle valve. But, the throttle valve had several "ports" through which it directs fluid within the valve body. Imagine if excessive pressure within a port of the valve body inadvertently acted upon the throttle valve and caused it to move forward; because it was "locked" to that link, it could have caused the rod to the throttle body to force the engine to race, creating the "runaway" condition.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">Far fetched theory? Well, what would you say if I told you that Audi changed the design of that link and throttle valve during the time that everyone was complaining of "runaway" Audis? Because that's exactly what happened.
Without any fanfare or announcement related to the "runaway" problem, we were suddenly instructed to replace the valve body every time we overhauled a transaxle assembly. And, since so many Audi 5000s had the transaxles repaired (for that leak between the differential and transmission) a LOT of Audis got new valve bodies.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">So, what was the difference?
Instead of that link being firmly "locked" into the throttle valve, the new throttle valve (that came with the new valve body) had that link</span><span style="font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;"> pushing against </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">the throttle valve. When the accelerator pedal was released, and that link moved back away from the throttle valve, a </span><span style="font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;">newly-added spring</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> kept the throttle valve mated to the position of that lever/link. In this way, if anything inside the transmission caused the throttle valve to move, it would not have dragged that link along with it and, consequently, the linkage to the throttle body affecting the speed of the engine.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">The cause of the Audi "runaways" was never formally disclosed. I think the problem just slowly began to go away and less and less attention was paid to it until no one talked about it anymore. I suppose from time to time the driver of any car could experience unintended acceleration; but if no problem is found during a subsequent check, the cause will probably be attributed to "driver error."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 130%;">Of course, I don't know if any of this has anything to do with the problems experienced by the Toyota drivers. But, knowing what I DO know, there is probably a part that is malfunctioning and will cause more injury and death until the mystery is solved.
I have located some generic diagrams depicting how the valve body and related parts work in an automatic transmission which I will include below. (Click on any image to enlarge.)
To read the story in simple terms, go to <a href="http://eng.kaps.cz/news/understanding_the_valve_body_1_2-982.html">http://eng.kaps.cz/news/understanding_the_valve_body_1_2-982.html</a>)
</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nC7JxtEI/AAAAAAAAAj4/_zZBoX_YZAU/s1600-h/valve+body+overview.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430891500591494210" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nC7JxtEI/AAAAAAAAAj4/_zZBoX_YZAU/s320/valve+body+overview.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 173px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nISKnYyI/AAAAAAAAAkA/93SPxdylOmQ/s1600-h/valve+body+1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430891592668373794" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nISKnYyI/AAAAAAAAAkA/93SPxdylOmQ/s320/valve+body+1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 262px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nOaDS7BI/AAAAAAAAAkI/KNUxetD4VaY/s1600-h/valve+body+2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430891697864371218" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nOaDS7BI/AAAAAAAAAkI/KNUxetD4VaY/s320/valve+body+2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 187px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nSu9oKbI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/_dNbpucgrXg/s1600-h/valve+body+3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430891772197218738" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nSu9oKbI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/_dNbpucgrXg/s320/valve+body+3.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 225px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nW8piZPI/AAAAAAAAAkY/z1yclgOvbJ8/s1600-h/valve+body+4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430891844590527730" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/S15nW8piZPI/AAAAAAAAAkY/z1yclgOvbJ8/s320/valve+body+4.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 251px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>
</div>
<span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-80202257338244971252009-08-04T21:35:00.024-04:002010-01-31T22:40:37.885-05:00Albuquerque Hot Air Balloon Ride<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />During our recent trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico, Ro and I ventured up in a hot air balloon with our friends, Bob & Doris. We lifted off shortly after sunrise on a parcel of desert south of Albuquerque, near the town of Belen. It was a first time experience for everyone but me and we had a very smooth flight, affording us some great views.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmS6gdfbI/AAAAAAAAAeY/1Wz59Brq-Uw/s1600-h/**DSCF5276+lighter+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmS6gdfbI/AAAAAAAAAeY/1Wz59Brq-Uw/s320/**DSCF5276+lighter+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292168629386674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">A gas generator powers a fan to blow air into the balloon and inflate it.<br /><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmNp6k3kI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/K8DCnommpI4/s1600-h/**DSCF5273+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmNp6k3kI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/K8DCnommpI4/s320/**DSCF5273+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292078276173378" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmW4TpRgI/AAAAAAAAAeg/-XjowDlsDFM/s1600-h/**DSCF5283+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmW4TpRgI/AAAAAAAAAeg/-XjowDlsDFM/s320/**DSCF5283+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292236758238722" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Soon, the propane burners are turned on to throw</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">super-heated air into the balloon and cause it to rise.<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Snjm_H8AZDI/AAAAAAAAAfo/Xg4rb0ZxDAM/s1600-h/**P7020004+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Snjm_H8AZDI/AAAAAAAAAfo/Xg4rb0ZxDAM/s320/**P7020004+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292928148825138" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">After everyone climbs on board, more hot air is added</span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">to the balloon and we're lifted up toward the sky.</span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjnDT3iOyI/AAAAAAAAAfw/B1EpGPm061E/s1600-h/**P7020006+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjnDT3iOyI/AAAAAAAAAfw/B1EpGPm061E/s320/**P7020006+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366293000070773538" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The photos of us in the air were taken by one of the crew</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">and emailed to us after we returned home.<br /><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjnMCYeEFI/AAAAAAAAAgA/K80ZPFdAqVc/s1600-h/**P7020008+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjnMCYeEFI/AAAAAAAAAgA/K80ZPFdAqVc/s320/**P7020008+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366293149995896914" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmxXs-6jI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/5aOv2a9XzUM/s1600-h/**IMG_0051+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmxXs-6jI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/5aOv2a9XzUM/s320/**IMG_0051+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292691862612530" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Ro took a couple of great shots of our shadow,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">using the new Canon A1000.</span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmtGq6IJI/AAAAAAAAAfI/YpoSffjxQN0/s1600-h/**IMG_0042+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmtGq6IJI/AAAAAAAAAfI/YpoSffjxQN0/s320/**IMG_0042+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292618571030674" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjuiT3AiDI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/eENtc6ITe2E/s1600-h/**DSCF5300+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjuiT3AiDI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/eENtc6ITe2E/s320/**DSCF5300+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366301229225904178" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I had originally gone up in a balloon a few years ago,<br />upstate New York, but was disappointed<br />we only went up about 1,500-2,000 feet;<br />this time, I was happy we made it to about 3,500 feet.<br />I was hoping we'd fly over the Rio Grande (visible in the distance,<br />on the other side of the town), but the wind did not take us there.<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Snjmb5SWC2I/AAAAAAAAAeo/xxh6HuK1Mxo/s1600-h/**DSCF5291+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Snjmb5SWC2I/AAAAAAAAAeo/xxh6HuK1Mxo/s320/**DSCF5291+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292322920565602" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Telephoto shot of someone's desert compound.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmkmZ9g0I/AAAAAAAAAe4/h_Ges_NbbKk/s1600-h/**DSCF5301+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjmkmZ9g0I/AAAAAAAAAe4/h_Ges_NbbKk/s320/**DSCF5301+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292472471061314" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">This is an industrial park and school complex which is to be</span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">the start of another planned community like Rio Rancho.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Snjmo6dLFaI/AAAAAAAAAfA/n3AxLjr9OVo/s1600-h/**DSCF5304+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Snjmo6dLFaI/AAAAAAAAAfA/n3AxLjr9OVo/s320/**DSCF5304+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292546572719522" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">As we were descending toward our landing,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">a truck<br />and the billowing dust behind it</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">were captured with the telephoto lens.<br />A coyote was seen running across the<br />landscape shortly afterward.<br /></span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Snjm2rCAcxI/AAAAAAAAAfY/eb-zSZrlqAk/s1600-h/**IMG_0056+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Snjm2rCAcxI/AAAAAAAAAfY/eb-zSZrlqAk/s320/**IMG_0056+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366292782950413074" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">And we're eventually spilled out onto the ground</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">as the basket tips over... lots of fun, really!<br />(Note: no lizards or geckos were harmed in the making of this photo.)<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjnQLoTxeI/AAAAAAAAAgI/CTlFW51BEkc/s1600-h/**P7020015+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SnjnQLoTxeI/AAAAAAAAAgI/CTlFW51BEkc/s320/**P7020015+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366293221197727202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">After the landing, we were treated to a</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> breakfast of<br />bagels, cookies, and Champagne/orange juice Mimosas<br />while the crew packed up the balloon into its trailer.</span></div>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-46131426093316457052009-06-04T10:23:00.035-04:002009-06-04T21:05:25.143-04:00The REST of the Cabo Story<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Please see my first post on this blog (from November, 2008) for the first part of this story and photos from the resort.</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />For those geographically-challenged amongst us, Cabo San Lucas is located on the southernmost tip of Baja California Sur. From San Diego, you would continue driving south until you couldn’t go any further; then, you’d be in Cabo. It’s also the place where the Pacific Ocean–to the west–sweeps around the tip of Baja California and meets the slightly warmer waters of the Gulf Of California to the east, otherwise known as The Sea Of Cortez.<br /><br />Arriving at Los Cabos International Airport is a bit daunting; when our friends, Bob and Doris, first started visiting, there wasn’t even a permanent building on the site. Now, they’ve erected a modern air-conditioned terminal but you still exit the plane down a ramp of steps that they roll over to the door of the plane, and must walk across the tarmac to get to the terminal and customs.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifncb3ax9I/AAAAAAAAATY/cIqSfswpzWA/s1600-h/Los+Cabos+airport+w:tower+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifncb3ax9I/AAAAAAAAATY/cIqSfswpzWA/s320/Los+Cabos+airport+w:tower+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343493958600935378" border="0" /></a>The Los Cabos International Airport... no,<span style="font-style: italic;"> really!<br />(Click on any photo to enlarge it.)<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I decided to rent a car so we would be able to have the freedom to go wherever we wanted whenever we wanted; otherwise, there are car services and cabs to take you around. I got a great low rate through CarRentals.com for a car from National. But the car rental companies in Mexico are privately owned, so you’ve got to be very careful about what they try to sell you in the way of insurance or other extras. Your U.S. auto insurance does NOT cover you for more than a few miles inside Mexico and it is illegal to drive without insurance. I purchased collision insurance online for $83 before leaving. The woman at the rental car desk told me I</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" > still </span><span style="font-size:130%;">needed some other mandatory insurance and wouldn’t rent me the car without it; all together, it somehow totaled $247, for seven days. Then, she said, “I will give you the car for free if you all agree to take a tour of a timeshare property.”<br /><br />Well, this seemed too good to be true. In addition, she was giving us a voucher for $300 if all four of us took the ninety-minute tour; of course, we knew that someone was going to try to pressure us into buying a timeshare which we knew we didn’t want. However, even if we didn’t buy a timeshare, as long as we got our papers signed that we took the tour, she said she would get a commission for sending us and we would get the car for free and the $300 voucher. Bob and I decided it was worth the time invested and agreed.<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >(As mentioned in my first post, we eventually took a time share tour at the property where we stayed instead and received a voucher from them to pay for the rental car.)</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />The first car they offered us was an older Nissan that looked like it had been painted with a spray can; we couldn’t even fit three pieces of luggage in the trunk. After complaining to the manager, we got a new Dodge Attitude (made by Hyundai) which was also quite small, but at least we were able to put most of our stuff in the trunk; one large suitcase stood upright between Doris and Ro in the back seat.<br /><br />It turned out our resort was located right on The Sea Of Cortez, about fifteen miles north of the actual “old town” of Cabo San Lucas. The Fiesta American is described in detail in my first post of this blog so I’ll dispense with those details here. After checking in, the first order of business was stocking our “apartment” with food and drink that we’d be using while there; we figured on making breakfast and lunch for ourselves a few days to help save money. Of course, we needed to stock up on wine and snacks. We got our car back from the valet and drove into the town of Cabo San Lucas where Bob and Doris knew of some stores from previous visits.<br /><br />We stopped in a grocery store where we picked up eggs, ham, and other food stuffs, plus a case of bottled water. Then, a visit to a wine store where we selected an assortment of various types from names we were familiar with. I was surprised that none of the stores we shopped in had pretzels... you could find any type of chips–potato, corn or nachos, flavored or regular, from numerous companies–but</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" > no pretzels!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> We returned to our resort and spent the rest of the day relaxing at the infinity pool and spa closest to our rooms.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifvOxUr2XI/AAAAAAAAAVg/iVsqoEutCoQ/s1600-h/Barrell+cactus.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifvOxUr2XI/AAAAAAAAAVg/iVsqoEutCoQ/s320/Barrell+cactus.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343502519935687026" border="0" /></a>Barrel cactus on the resort property,<br />shot with telephoto lens since it was in an unaccessible area.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifwQdlbjWI/AAAAAAAAAVo/KmvpmPmxdIQ/s1600-h/Cactus+top+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifwQdlbjWI/AAAAAAAAAVo/KmvpmPmxdIQ/s320/Cactus+top+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343503648508579170" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We drove back into Cabo San Lucas that first evening and did a little exploring. We wound up at Poncho’s Cantina for dinner and drinks before walking around the marina area. Like similar waterfront areas in Baltimore and San Francisco, the marina had recently been renovated and now boasts such trendy clubs as a Hard Rock Café and Harley Davidson, along with eateries like Domino’s Pizza, Ruth’s Crist Steakhouse and Haagen Dazs–all in stark contrast to the older buildings and streets comprising the majority of this town. There are actually some wooden sidewalks still in use, reminding me of a scene from an old western movie.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifn8Wq1O4I/AAAAAAAAATg/2_V0saxr9JI/s1600-h/Cantina.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifn8Wq1O4I/AAAAAAAAATg/2_V0saxr9JI/s320/Cantina.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343494506961779586" border="0" /></a>Dinner at Poncho's Cantina... just what you'd expect from Cabo San Lucas.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The following morning, we stopped at the timeshare rental office and met our host/salesman: Walt. He’s a US native with a great personality and a colorful past; his resumé includes the fact that he was once run over by a truck while protecting a woman he was the bodyguard for. He escorted us to the restaurant for our free buffet breakfast. There was literally anything available–including a chef, making fresh omelettes or eggs any style–and easily the best, most filling breakfast you could ask for.<br /><br />Afterward, we began our tour with Walt. He walked us through the entire complex, explaining all its features. It’s a beautiful place and I can’t imagine anyone needing more; there’s even a golf course adjourning the resort. Bob told Walt that he was only interested in buying additional points if he could add them to his other account. That was not a problem so Walt was able to make a sale and everyone was happy. After the paperwork was completed, Walt invited us all to a second free buffet breakfast the following day.<br /><br />During the course of our tour, I mentioned to Walt that I would love to swim in the Sea of Cortez but the rocks on the resort’s beach seemed dangerous. He told me of a better beach about a mile or so down the road.<br /><br />“Meet me by the main entrance at one o’clock, when I get off work, and I’ll show you all a great out-of-the-way beach with safe swimming.”<br /><br />We spent the rest of the morning at the pool, enjoying the warm water, the beautiful views and sampling the Margueritas. At one point, I felt asleep on the recliner by poolside. I was awakened by the feeling of something on my right ear; I sensed it was a large bug of some kind so I instinctively swatted at it with my hand as I awoke. Some people at the other recliners on my right side were pointing at me; a couple were concerned while others laughed.<br /><br />“The lizard was on your chair... did he bite you?” they asked.<br /><br />I looked around and saw a large lizard–at least twenty inches long, from his head to the end of his tail–on the rock wall directly behind my chair. I touched my ear and looked at my fingers; there was no blood. “No,” I answered, “but I thought it was a bug or something. It woke me up.”<br /><br />Well, I guess I was just</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" > kissed </span><span style="font-size:130%;">by a lizard; maybe he stuck that tongue of his out and touched my ear with it, but it sure felt like he nipped me. If nothing else, it gave us something to talk about for the rest of the trip and I got some good photos of that critter.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifoedE8wVI/AAAAAAAAATo/ncRg3eJiAvA/s1600-h/Lizard+on+the+rocks+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifoedE8wVI/AAAAAAAAATo/ncRg3eJiAvA/s320/Lizard+on+the+rocks+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343495092797489490" border="0" /></a>My friend, the Lizard.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />By noon, we returned to our rooms and made sandwiches with the bread and ham we had bought at the grocery store the previous day. We packed some drinks into a cooler and headed on down to the main entrance by one o’clock. Walt was waiting for us in a big Dodge Ram pickup truck with Colorado plates on it.<br /><br />We got our car from the valet and headed out of the resort, following Walt. Upon reaching the main highway, he turned north and we trailed along behind him for a short distance. Presently, he turned onto a dirt road and headed toward the water; we soon arrived at a nearly deserted but lovely beach on a cove, parked the Attitude and set our stuff down near the water’s edge.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifo2TUEZgI/AAAAAAAAATw/97uh9E03jeY/s1600-h/ship+off+beach.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifo2TUEZgI/AAAAAAAAATw/97uh9E03jeY/s320/ship+off+beach.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343495502493410818" border="0" /></a>A tall-masted tourist ship sails by some rocks,<br />down the beach from where we were swimming.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Walt told us it was safe to swim here and proceeded to put on his wet suit and snorkeling gear. We placed some large towels that we took from poolside on the sand and admired the boats offshore; a fisherman was casting his line from a large group of rocks where the waves were breaking nearby. I felt the water and found it to be a bit cool but still warmer than Long Island beaches on most summer days. The sand was a bit course but very clean; the bottom dropped off sharply as I walked further from the shore and the water was soon over my head.<br /><br />Bob came in the water and the two of us swam a bit before Walt jumped in and disappeared under the waves with his gear, the large black flippers on his feet occasionally visible as he dove from time to time, getting a good look at the fish, I imagined. Bob soon went back to sit on the beach but I remained in the water for another fifteen minutes or so. The waves were breaking a bit too close to shore for body surfing but I stayed out past the breakers, enjoying the clean, clear water; I was surprised to find no seaweed, jellyfish or debris. We ate our lunch and enjoyed the sun, working on our tans long after Walt packed his gear up and headed home. We thanked him for showing us this little stretch of Mexican paradise.<br /><br />We eventually headed back to our resort and relaxed around the pool before getting dressed for dinner at the onsite Italian restaurant, Rosario. Part of the timeshare tour deal was getting a 30 % discount at this place and it was certainly a worthwhile offer. The food was sumptuous (I had Ossa Bucca lasagna), the decor elegant, and a piano player serenaded us while we ate; his selections were beautiful and not so loud as to distract from our table conversation.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SigY3S7pv6I/AAAAAAAAAV4/uOGWiOfIKaw/s1600-h/Pelican+on+rocks+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SigY3S7pv6I/AAAAAAAAAV4/uOGWiOfIKaw/s320/Pelican+on+rocks+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343548296129003426" border="0" /></a>Pelican on the rocks, just outside the harbor, from our whale watch boat.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The next evening, we headed back into town where Bob had previously made reservations for us on a whale-watch dinner cruise. </span><span id="role_document" style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;"> <div><a href="mailto:rissacat@prodigy.net.mx">(rissacat@prodigy.net.mx</a> Eduardo Padilla, cell 044-624147-70-37, 044-624-147-53-59<br />phone# 624 143 30 48)</div></span><span style="font-size:130%;">He and Doris had enjoyed this event during another of their visits and highly recommended it to us. The boat was pretty crowed as we headed out of the harbor and the captain pointed out the various sights to us all: Lovers Beach, the rocks separating the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez, and–eventually–the whales!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifp9hTw-iI/AAAAAAAAAT4/uFFvkqz4sa0/s1600-h/The+rocks.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifp9hTw-iI/AAAAAAAAAT4/uFFvkqz4sa0/s320/The+rocks.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343496726020946466" border="0" /></a>The famous rocks separating the Pacific Ocean on the far side<br />and the Sea of Cortez on the near side (from our whale watch boat).<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifqgHA8_UI/AAAAAAAAAUA/8VieuoK2yLQ/s1600-h/BTR+midtones+lightened+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifqgHA8_UI/AAAAAAAAAUA/8VieuoK2yLQ/s320/BTR+midtones+lightened+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343497320258141506" border="0" /></a>View between the rocks near Lovers Beach; Pacific ocean toward the horizon.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The water was pretty choppy so I was glad I had taken my new camera with the Optical Image Stabilization. I managed to get a few shots of several whales and even took some video footage, but because you never know where these beasts are going to surface, it’s difficult to catch just the right moment.<br /><br />Dinner, prepared on the boat, consisted of barbecued spare ribs, roasted chicken, and various side dishes–all quite tasty but difficult to eat while seated on a chair, with no table, on a boat that’s bouncing all over the place. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Now, where did I put my drink?<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifyg76DdJI/AAAAAAAAAVw/AS-lJziZybU/s1600-h/sunset+from+whale+watch.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifyg76DdJI/AAAAAAAAAVw/AS-lJziZybU/s320/sunset+from+whale+watch.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343506130549306514" border="0" /></a>Unretouched photo of sunset from the Whale Watch Cruise boat.<br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Sunset across the ocean was beautiful as the sky turned a deep orange before the fiery-red ball sank below the horizon. In the afterglow of dusk, we headed back into the harbor and left the boat by the time darkness had enveloped the marina.<br /><br />On one of our trips into town, I spotted some animals made out of metal; it seems to be a specialty of the area artisans. It looks like they take heavy-gauge sheet metal and cut out a design that looks like a frog, a parrot–even an octopus or lizard. Well, I just had to have one of those lizards to remind me of my poolside encounter at our resort so I found a cool one, painted green, with dimples in the metal to resemble lizard skin. After checking out a few different shops, I wound up back in the first place I looked and got the best deal there. I later found a frog I also liked and bought that too; I thought it would look good out by our hot tub at home.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SigaJYsE-1I/AAAAAAAAAWA/ANbnleNrdWY/s1600-h/lighter+lizard+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SigaJYsE-1I/AAAAAAAAAWA/ANbnleNrdWY/s320/lighter+lizard+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343549706423565138" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">At some point of each day or evening, we could be found relaxing in or about one of the pools or spas, sipping Margueritas and rubbing on sunblock. During one afternoon, I was walking along one of the paths near the pools and saw a low-flying pelican gliding past me, only several feet above my head. I turned and watched as he made a graceful landing right in the middle of the largest infinity pool on the property. Luckily, I had my camera with me and quickly made it to the edge of the pool so I could grab a few shots. The other bathers and folks lounging around the pool gradually caught sight of the bird and began to run over with cameras as well. A few minutes later, the pelican took flight and left without even saying “good-bye.”<br /><br />On another day, we drove north, back toward the airport and visited the town of San José del Cabo. It was a bit smaller than Cabo San Lucas but had some typical touristy shops and some very nice eateries. After stopping by the historic Catholic church, we found La Panga restaurant offering a three-course lunch for just $19.95. We were seated in a cozy outdoor courtyard with much native flora growing about and discovered the food was really great! After checking out a few more shops and buying some goodies to bring home for our grandkids, we headed back to our car and made the return trip to our resort.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifsP5jK_UI/AAAAAAAAAUg/SODvtQaCXlM/s1600-h/Church+in+San+Jose+del+Cabo.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifsP5jK_UI/AAAAAAAAAUg/SODvtQaCXlM/s320/Church+in+San+Jose+del+Cabo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343499240788917570" border="0" /></a>Old Catholic church in San Jose del Cabo.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifseq4M6ZI/AAAAAAAAAUo/JjGwU-32oiM/s1600-h/church+interior.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifseq4M6ZI/AAAAAAAAAUo/JjGwU-32oiM/s320/church+interior.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343499494548629906" border="0" /></a>Interior of church, photographed with available light.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifsvwOxpLI/AAAAAAAAAUw/8_y7_MWuHU8/s1600-h/Ken+%26+Bob+at+La+Panga+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SifsvwOxpLI/AAAAAAAAAUw/8_y7_MWuHU8/s320/Ken+%26+Bob+at+La+Panga+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343499788043265202" border="0" /></a>Ken and Bob enjoy lunch at La Panga, in San Jose del Cabo.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SiftC9FkenI/AAAAAAAAAU4/Di0M5mPkSvs/s1600-h/Doris+%26+Ro+at+La+Panga.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SiftC9FkenI/AAAAAAAAAU4/Di0M5mPkSvs/s320/Doris+%26+Ro+at+La+Panga.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343500117911829106" border="0" /></a>Another round of Margeritas for Doris and Ro.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />While hanging out at one of the pools after we returned from San José del Cabo, we asked our poolside waiter Adolfo if he could recommend someplace really authentic for us to go for Mexican food. “Where do the locals go?” we wondered.<br /><br />“Oh, you’ve got to go to Las Guacamayas for the ‘dollar tacos’,” Adolfo told us. He grabbed one of the visitors guides from a nearby table and proceeded to find the page with the street map of town. After studying it a minute or two, he said, “Here!” as he put a small dot on the map with a ball point pen.<br /><br />Since we had a big meal around lunchtime, we decided to take Adolfo’s suggestion and drove into town and what we figured would be lighter fare for dinner: dollar tacos. We weren’t sure exactly where it was; the dot on the map was pretty vague. We parked in the general vicinity of the dot and started walking. This was a very residential area with many small shops that the locals frequented. We saw several people wandering about so we asked if anyone knew where Las Guacamayas was. They knew exactly where we wanted to go and pointed us in the right direction, about a block further up the street, on the east side of José Ma. Morelos street, near where Avenida de la Juventud crosses... I think.<br /><br />When we arrived at the place, we found what looked like a giant tree house, elevated above street level, with outside stairs leading to a deck with a thatched roof. From that vantage point, you could look down on the street and a small adjourning yard where someone was cooking and preparing everything–outdoors! “What does he do when it rains?” I wondered.<br /><br />We could see that this was a local place. We were shown to a large table and given menus; a single laminated sheet with choices in Spanish on one side, and English on the other. Our waiter spoke no English so we found what we wanted on the “English” side and then pointed to the same thing on the reverse side for the waiter to take our order.<br /><br />On the table were various condiments like sliced cucumbers, grilled onions, hot peppers, some kind of delicious chopped tomato salsa, plus a kind of guacamole/salsa verde... all things to put on your tacos or whatever else you ordered. The menu was quite extensive in that you could get tacos (soft shell, not the hard shell like Taco Bell serves), quesadillas, burritos, soups, gorditas, and standard fare like beans and rice. You could order your taco with a wide selection of fillings like marinated pork, shredded pork, different kinds of chicken or beef, and then add any of the extras that were on the table.<br /><br />I ordered three tacos with assorted fillings, a chicken and cheese quesadilla, and a bowl of bean soup. Bob also ordered some kind of sausage which sounded good, so I ordered one too. Everything was really tasty and much more filling than I expected. Sure enough, the tacos were 1.3 pesos, which–with the exchange rate–worked out to a dollar each; quesadillas were a dollar-thirty, the soup was two-twenty. Including the beer I ordered, my whole meal came to less than ten bucks... and it was much more filling than I’d expected.<br /><br />After we left the restaurant, we found the car and headed back to the main road. We had only gone a few blocks when I spotted a bakery; I parked the car and walked back to check it out. It was another little local shop with some good-looking items so Bob and I bought the two remaining chocolate muffins in their case and took them back to our resort for dessert.<br /><br />On another trip into town one evening, we visited Cabo Wabo, owned by Sammy Hagar of Van Halen fame. This place is huge, located in an older building near the main strip, and spreads out over several floors including a courtyard where some vendors sell souvenirs and tee-shirts. There didn’t seem to be any cover charge or minimum; we just wandered around, caught a live trio on one of the stages doing some American rock, and grabbed a nearby table. I didn’t see any waiter or waitresses so Bob and I got up, went to the bar, and ordered four drinks which we brought back to have with Ro and Doris while we listened to the performers on stage. Down some stairs there was more of a nightclub atmosphere with a fancier stage and a dance floor; there was nothing much going on when we looked in so it may have been too early yet for this area to come alive.<br /><br />One of the places on our “must-see” list in Cabos San Lucas was The Office, a restaurant right on the beach, on the bay side of town. Doris and Bob told us we had to go there. As one story on the internet tells it:<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >“...once upon a time, in the decade of the 70’s, when the Baja peninsula was still a remote and isolated place and few visitors came to the region, the first–and at that time the only–palapa on the beach was built on the médano beach of Cabo San Lucas...<br /><br />...on the virgin beach this palapa, with its small kitchen and unpretentious bar tended to the needs of locals and the few tourists of the time, offering simple fare such as ceviches, fried fish, burritos or hamburgers, and the always wanted margaritas, cuba libres and beers, besides the traditional water or coffee...</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><br />...a local character–a gringo viejo, as the writer Carlos Fuentes would say–rented wind-surf equipment on the beach and entertained his clients and friends in this same palapa, which was referred to–by him and others–as the office, the office on the beach...<br /><br />...the name stuck, and shortly after a blue sign with yellow lettering somehow popped up identifying the place officially as an office... the Office on the beach...”<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The best thing about The Office is that–being right on the beach–you can go there in your swim suit, carrying a towel, and swim before, during, or after your meal. You sit at a patio furniture-type table and chair set, with a big blue umbrella protecting you from the hot sun; of course, the tables are close together so most of the umbrellas touch each other, giving the illusion of a large indoor room... but </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >you’re in the sand!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Another reason to like The Office is that the food is great! A four-piece marriacci band also walks between the sea of tables taking requests; they happen to be quite good as well.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SiftxL4jYVI/AAAAAAAAAVI/oF2tarGafsI/s1600-h/cropped+Mariacchi+Band+at+Office.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SiftxL4jYVI/AAAAAAAAAVI/oF2tarGafsI/s320/cropped+Mariacchi+Band+at+Office.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343500912157745490" border="0" /></a>The Marriacchi band entertains us at The Office.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Naturally, the area along the beach has built up tremendously over the years and numerous other eateries now flank The Office. In addition, the water’s edge is now neatly partitioned with ropes and floating buoys dividing public swimming areas, water taxis, and glass-bottom tour boat operators. There are also many vendors hawking tee-shirts, jewelry and other goods along the beach that disturb the beauty of the setting but offer their own unique charm. Regardless of the busy scene, I still enjoyed swimming right in front of The Office and the water was still amazingly clean in spite of all the activity around it.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifu4pfpNvI/AAAAAAAAAVY/qeqTWr6hhew/s1600-h/Office+Beach+Scene.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Sifu4pfpNvI/AAAAAAAAAVY/qeqTWr6hhew/s320/Office+Beach+Scene.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343502139877046002" border="0" /></a>Looking north along the beach in front of The Office.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Alas, all good things must come to an end. Before too long, we were packing for our return trip to New York. We decided to splurge for one more fabulous breakfast at the resort on the morning before our flight. Upon leaving the breakfast area, Bob and I smuggled some sandwiches out so that we’d have something to eat on our plane that afternoon; you know, those peanuts and Oreo cookies the airline gives you are a pretty poor substitute for lunch.<br /><br />We arrived at Kennedy and found our luggage, then headed over to the Air Train back to Jamaica to pick up Bob’s car. The first train that came into the station was going to the Howard Beach shuttle station so we had to wait for another. Just as the train pulled out of the station, I saw a young couple with a small child on the platform, and the guy was obviously upset. It seems his wife got on the train with one of their kids, then got off to get a piece of luggage but they took too long getting back on. The doors of the train closed and their five year-old son was whisked off without them. Luckily, a transit cop came along and called ahead to the next station where someone else could hopefully retrieve the child.<br /><br />It was 9 PM New York time when we landed but it was still 7 PM as far as our stomachs were concerned. We decided to stop in East Meadow on our way home to get some Chinese food “to go.” The perfect ending to a perfect trip, I guess you could say.<br /><br />Epilogue:<br />Do you know how few drivers actually stop at stop signs in New York? Granted, many drivers will slow down and</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" > almost </span><span style="font-size:130%;">stop, but only a handful come to a complete stop. Well, in Los Cabos, nobody even slows down at stop signs. It’s like the signs aren’t even there. Of course, if there’s another vehicle or line of traffic already in their way, they’ll slow down and maybe even</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" > have</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> to stop. Otherwise, it’s a game of “chicken” driving with those bozos.<br /><br />In the weeks following our return from Los Cabos, I emailed the online insurance company that I had bought the car insurance from before leaving for Mexico. I explained that I was told the insurance I bought was all I needed and yet couldn’t rent the National car without buying additional insurance. My latest credit card statement included a full refund of the $83 that I paid for the online insurance.</span>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-58931736544656860332009-05-24T21:20:00.018-04:002009-06-04T15:33:51.133-04:00Take Me Out To The Ball Game<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I’ve always enjoyed baseball and it remains one of my favorite sports to watch in spite of the fact that it can be a bit slow moving at times. I recently attended the opening game of the season for the Chicago Cubs minor league team in Daytona Beach while Ro and I were visiting my cousin Warren and wife Joan in Port Orange. And while Ro and Joan agreed to go with us to the game, it was clear that they’d rather be somewhere else.<br /><br />When one of the teams got a few hits in a row, Joan called out, “DELAY OF GAME!”<br /><br />I said, “What do you mean, ‘delay of game’?”<br /><br />She replied, “It’s supposed to be three up and three down. That’s my idea of a good game... </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >fast moving</span><span style="font-size:130%;">.”<br /><br />Well, soccer and basketball move at a much faster pace but I find there’s just a lot of repetitious running back and forth in each of those sports. I also think there’s too much scoring in basketball and not enough scoring in soccer. If you eliminated the goalie in soccer and created one in basketball, you have two better games as far as I'm concerned.<br /><br />Hockey is certainly a fast game with a reasonable amount of scoring. But, similar to soccer and basketball, each game kind of follows the same pattern of repetition. I think football and baseball are more unpredictable; I mean, you never know what’s going to happen next and there’s a bit more strategy involved as well.<br /><br />Anyway, I like the game–the tradition–of baseball more than the business of baseball... which seems to be what all sports have become these days. Long ago, you rooted for a team and certain players that usually stayed with a team for a long time. These days, players change teams like underwear and vice-versa. And, considering the prices stadiums charge for seats nowadays, I’ve pretty much given up the desire to attend a game in person any more... except a minor-league game, anyway.<br /><br />But my old friend, Joe, called recently to ask if I wanted to go to a Yankees game at their new stadium. It seems Joe’s wife, Esther, had to attend a funeral for one of her aunts who just passed away and couldn’t use her ticket.<br /><br />I thought, “Sure, I’d love to go,” but I declined at first.<br /><br />You see, Ro and I were scheduled to visit our daughter in Connecticut and take care of the grandkids who had a few days off from school. But, since the game was on a Sunday and we didn’t actually need to watch the kids until Monday morning, we decided that Ro would drive up early Sunday morning and spend the day with Joanne’s family; then after the game, I’d take Metro North to New Haven where Ro or Joanne could pick me up.<br /><br />So, Joe and I caught the Long Island Rail Road train out of Hicksville to Penn Station in Manhattan. From there, Joe suggested we walk over to Sixth Avenue to catch the subway up to Yankee Stadium as it’s easier to get a seat on that line. We arrived at the stadium in plenty of time to walk around and check out the exterior before going inside. I also took the time to buy a Philly Cheese-Steak sandwich from one of the food vendors across the street from the stadium to save some money; you know what they charge for food in any sports stadium!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9MeGpiqI/AAAAAAAAASo/jiecVXIkwo4/s1600-h/****Entrance+blog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9MeGpiqI/AAAAAAAAASo/jiecVXIkwo4/s320/****Entrance+blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339577223905643170" border="0" /></a>View of the new Yankee Stadium as seen from across the street<br />on what began as an overcast day.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Click on any photo to enlarge it.)</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9WAkl0JI/AAAAAAAAAS4/vrZYmkAkfNs/s1600-h/****legends+hall.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9WAkl0JI/AAAAAAAAAS4/vrZYmkAkfNs/s320/****legends+hall.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339577387776856210" border="0" /></a>Entering through Gate 6 enables you to see<br />the large tribute posters to Yankee players.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Once inside, we walked around and checked out the various views from different parts of the new ball park. One of the biggest differences between the old and new stadiums is that the new one is not as high as the old one. But I think, in an effort to keep people lower, and possibly closer to the field, they sacrificed sightlines.<br /><br />There are a lot more seats in the outfield fair territory than there used to be. But, unless you’re in the first few rows, you see less of the field as your seats go further back. Joe and some co-workers chipped in and bought 20 games for the two seats we occupied in the second level, about twenty feet on the fair side of the right field foul post. While we had a pretty good view overall, we could not see the wall nor the warning track in right or center field. When a home run was hit into the stands in the level in front of us, we couldn’t see the play live and had to turn around sharply over our right shoulders to see the replay on the big screen high over center field.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9RoXNUWI/AAAAAAAAASw/t0RM7z23qvI/s1600-h/****from+our+seats.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9RoXNUWI/AAAAAAAAASw/t0RM7z23qvI/s320/****from+our+seats.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339577312558797154" border="0" /></a>From our $50 seats, the outfield wall in front of us<br />and the warning track were not viewable<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9g9faWvI/AAAAAAAAATI/JiU7abuu0XE/s1600-h/****tele+shot.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9g9faWvI/AAAAAAAAATI/JiU7abuu0XE/s320/****tele+shot.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339577575928388338" border="0" /></a>Infield shot using about a 250 mm setting<br />on my zoom lens from our seats.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />There is also a new restaurant forming a large part of the stadium in center field that juts out toward the field in such a way that anyone sitting close to the wall of this monstrosity has absolutely no view of the opposite field. If you’re on the right field side of this structure, you can’t see left field and–if you’re sitting far enough back in this section and close to the wall–you may not even see third base. The opposite holds true if you’re sitting on the other side of this thing.<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />In addition, the area on top of this structure has tables set up for people to bring their overpriced food to–and eat while standing and looking toward the field. Of course, a lot of people stand by the edge closest to the field so you’re not going to see much from the location of the tables anyway. The other problem is that surrounding this area is a waist-high wall with a flat top surface just begging you to put your food and drink on it since there aren’t many tables to begin with. And, since it’s very easy for your food and drink to get knocked off this surface, the folks in the seats below will receive more than their fair share of french fries and beer falling on them. I can’t believe someone actually got paid to design this thing; can you say, “</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >stupid engineering?</span><span style="font-size:130%;">”<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9cJK4BlI/AAAAAAAAATA/M9CNBvjcTQY/s1600-h/****Obstructed+blog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9cJK4BlI/AAAAAAAAATA/M9CNBvjcTQY/s320/****Obstructed+blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339577493164131922" border="0" /></a>Seriously obstructed views from this area next to the new restaurant<br />jutting out into center field. Note the people at the top of the wall<br />where food and drink can easilly be spilled onto folks below.</div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Another thing that Joe and I noticed immediately was the lack of signage. We learned where our seats were from a stadium usher and, from where we were standing at the time, I could have thrown a baseball and hit them with it. But, because the signs on the stair landings are so small–and the text on them even smaller and a bit cryptic–it took us fifteen minutes of walking to the wrong levels to try and access them. We were told by one worker that one set of stairs we were using didn’t even go to the level we wanted... </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >very confusing!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />At one point, I needed to use the men’s room. I found it easy enough and went inside. Before leaving, I pressed up on the soap dispenser with the palm of my hand and then pulled it away to wash. There was no soap on my hand. It seems there’s a delayed action on the soap dispenser so, after pressing up with your hand, you have to wait a couple of seconds before the soap comes out. I noticed a puddle of soap on the floor under each soap dispenser so it wasn’t just me. Then, after washing my hands and drying them with a paper towel, I looked for a place to toss the crumpled towel to no avail. There were no trash pails in sight. So, I took the towel and planned on throwing it away outside the men’s room except... there was no handle on the inside of the door I entered through.<br /><br />“Okay,” I thought, “there’s a separate exit door.”<br /><br />But I couldn’t see another door. Obviously, there must be one.<br /><br />Sure enough, on the far side of the room, there was an attendant sitting on a chair by a wall and, the way the wall was designed, you couldn’t tell there was an exit door hidden behind it. Of course, there were no “exit” signs anywhere.<br /><br />Now, I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth and I’m very happy Joe invited me to the game. It enabled me to see a good game and experience what has become the talk of New York lately. Naturally, Joe didn’t design the park so I’m certainly not blaming him for its shortcomings. But, for over a BILLION AND A HALF DOLLARS, I think the new Yankee Stadium could have been a lot better than what I’ve seen.<br />It turned out to be a pretty good game with the lead going back and forth a couple of times but the Yankees finally won it. I wouldn't have been too upset if they had lost since I was always a Dodgers fan until they left Brooklyn and half-heartedly rooted for the Mets ever since.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9lTzyz7I/AAAAAAAAATQ/KA0GHi1oZ28/s1600-h/****Wide+angle.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/Shn9lTzyz7I/AAAAAAAAATQ/KA0GHi1oZ28/s320/****Wide+angle.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339577650638933938" border="0" /></a>28 mm wide angle shot of the entire field<br />from the vendors area on the second level behind the first base line.<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I left at the end of the eighth inning so I might get a seat on the subway going back to Grand Central Station before boarding the Metro North train. An hour and fifty minutes later, I was in New Haven. Ro, Joanne, Mark and the grandkids all met me and... we went to Modern Apizza for dinner.</span>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-82011364493238062432009-04-23T16:30:00.009-04:002009-06-04T15:35:14.240-04:00A Visit to the Bronx Botanical Gardens<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">This past fall, Ro and I joined our friends Bob & Doris on a visit to the Bronx Botanical Gardens, right across Fordham Road from the world-famous Bronx Zoo. While I was wandering around, I grabbed a bunch of photos with my Fuji S8000, all under natural light, positioning myself to get the best background for each. The frog was about 10 or 12 feet away and captured using the telephoto while the others utilized macro mode.<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(Click on the images to enlarge.)</span></span><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SfDRRn7aa2I/AAAAAAAAAP4/G51MOXJgsYw/s1600-h/*Butterfly+on+yellow+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SfDRRn7aa2I/AAAAAAAAAP4/G51MOXJgsYw/s320/*Butterfly+on+yellow+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327988459885456226" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SfDRjenFBcI/AAAAAAAAAQA/W8IThIj53HY/s1600-h/*Bee+on+flower+cropped+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SfDRjenFBcI/AAAAAAAAAQA/W8IThIj53HY/s320/*Bee+on+flower+cropped+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327988766621894082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SfDRuK9jswI/AAAAAAAAAQI/d2tEYZDJJkc/s1600-h/*Water+lily+cropped+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SfDRuK9jswI/AAAAAAAAAQI/d2tEYZDJJkc/s320/*Water+lily+cropped+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327988950326031106" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SfDR9L5o6RI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/RGHqPGYFgBA/s1600-h/DSCF4619+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SfDR9L5o6RI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/RGHqPGYFgBA/s320/DSCF4619+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327989208276068626" border="0" /></a></div>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-57182691493573788922009-01-23T22:15:00.003-05:002009-01-23T22:57:03.452-05:00Me & My Garmin<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I’m generally pretty good with directions and finding my way on the highways. I love maps and often study them; I usually have no problem figuring out the best route, no matter where I am. But there are times when traffic is backed up, due to an accident or just excessive volume, and it would be an advantage to be able to get off a particular road and find another way. If this occurs in familiar territory, it’s not a big deal; if you’re in a strange land, it’s quite another story. It is for that reason I bought a GPS receiver–a Garmin Nuvi 350.<br /><br />This particular model has a couple of features I don’t really need–like a built-in MP3 player–but it was cheaper at the time I bought it than a lesser model, so I figured, “why not?”<br /><br />I should have known there would be impending problems upon my first use of the unit; I was going from East Meadow to Amityville, where I worked a part-time job since retiring, so I decided to see how the GPS would suggest I go. I entered the address of the place where I worked and left my home, driving east on Hempstead Turnpike, in the general direction of work. The first weird thing it did was suggest I go south on Loring Road , which runs along side the Wantagh Parkway, instead of directing me onto the Parkway–an obviously quicker route.<br /><br />If I had taken Loring Road, I would have had to drive a couple of miles, turning onto two other roads, before getting on the Southern State Parkway, going east, which anyone would tell you is the best route to Amityville. As it is, I disregarded the GPS directive and used the Wantagh Parkway, evoking a now-familiar response from the Garmin’s digital female voice: “RECALCULATING!<br /><br />Since that day, I’ve blessed the GPS on several occasions, for getting me out of trouble or back onto the correct route after missing a turn. It’s extricated me from areas in which I had no clue where I was going, and I’ve been amazed by its ability to direct me through very tight and quick turns within the streets of Manhattan. While there is no doubt it is a very useful tool for anyone doing frequent driving, it’s also disappointed me by displaying its many faults.<br /><br />When our grandkids were spending a week with us last summer, we took them to the Vanderbilt Planetarium and Museum, in Centerport, Long Island. Upon leaving the Vanderbilt, we asked the kids where they might want to go for lunch; “Taco Bell” seemed to be their choice. In an effort to find the closest Taco Bell, I plugged in the Garmin, brought up “restaurants”, and typed in “Taco Bell.” The GPS immediately found one on Larkfield Road, in Northport, about three miles away.<br /><br />I followed the on-screen directions until the GPS told me to turn left down a residential street; “odd,” I thought, but I figured it was a shortcut. Upon making the turn, however, I saw a “dead end” sign on the side of the street. It seems the street originally cut through to Larkfield Road but, for some time anyway, it no longer did. After detouring south to the next street parallel to the previous one, I eventually did reach Larkfield Road and the Taco Bell restaurant. It was boarded up and closed!<br /><br />Last December, we were up at our daughter’s place in Connecticut, on a Saturday, and had to go to Rutherford, New Jersey, on Sunday for my cousin John’s annual Christmas Party. Of course, I know how to get to John’s place from our home on Long Island, but since we were driving from Wallingford, Connecticut, I was going to take some different roads.<br /><br />I would surely encounter less traffic by crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge, in Westchester, and then driving south to Rutherford once I was on the west side of the Hudson River. However, the entire time I was driving southwest on the Wilbur Cross/Merritt Parkway, my GPS kept directing me to go south on every major road I came upon in an effort to get me on I-95 and, eventually, the George Washington Bridge. For those readers who are not from the New York metropolitan area, I’ve got to tell you there are two things I avoid like the plague: the Cross Bronx Expressway (I-95) and the George Washington Bridge. Besides, the Cross Westchester Expressway (I-287) and the Tappan Zee Bridge are further north and closer to where I was coming from. But, once that lady in the Garmin has a route in her head, it’s hard to dissuade her from her plans.<br /><br />Anyway, I took the Tappan Zee, the GPS “recalculated,” and it eventually took me down the Garden State Parkway in Jersey, directing me through all kinds of complex interchanges and tight turns, before depositing me outside my cousin’s front door from the opposite direction I usually approach it from.<br /><br />During our May, 2008, trip to visit some cousins I’d never met before (but found while compiling my genealogy research) Ro and I spent a couple of days in Baltimore, Maryland. On the day we left to visit some friends, I entered “flea market” into my GPS search directory; the Garmin came up with a flea market in Tracy’s Landing, not far from our friends’ place in Edgewater.<br /><br />I proceeded to follow the directions but the further I drove, the smaller and more rural the roads became. At long last, we arrived at our destination, but there was no flea market; we found ourselves at the edge of a lake, with residential homes all around us. Clearly, the GPS had steered us wrong. Maybe there was originally a person living at that location who ran a flea market and the GPS had found that listing in the phone directory which it often utilizes. I don’t know. But that’s only one of many times my Garmin has sent in on a wild goose chase.<br /><br />This past summer, Ro and I were driving up to Cape Cod. I programmed in our destination and figured the GPS would help me get around any traffic I might encounter along the way. As I approached Providence, Rhode Island, on I-95, my Garmin told me to take Exit 21 to I-195 (east toward Cape Cod). However, there had been recent road work in the area and there was now a NEW exchange between I-95 and I-195: Exit 20!<br /><br />Once we were in the area near our motel, we occasionally put in addresses of nearby attractions. At one point, we tried to find a restaurant at 1176 Main Street, in South Yarmouth, MA (zip 02664). My search did not find that address (even though it exists and I found it by driving along & looking for it) but the GPS offered me SIX other addresses in South Yarmouth instead: 999 Main St., 499 Main St., 499 N. Main St., 499 N. Main (again), 173 N. Main, and 21 N. Main Street. Why on earth would it do that?<br /> I recently emailed Garmin with a list of things I was not happy about with my GPS. After a few exchanges between myself and a customer service rep, I was told I could download updated maps for my GPS at a cost of $69.95. Now, if I hadn’t just spent over $300 for my Garmin only a year ago, I might find that a reasonable suggestion (they've also come down in price in the past year). But, given the fact that my unit was less than a year old, and was shipped with what I feel were outdated maps to begin with, I think Garmin ought to comp me at least one map upgrade. A subsequent letter to Garmin's corporate headquarters went unanswered!<br /> <br />The bottom line is that the GPS can be a very useful aid while driving but I wouldn’t say it takes the place of a map. I still prefer to study a map before I go somewhere new, and plot what I feel is the best route. I’ll use the GPS to alert me to upcoming turns and exits, and as a backup in case I have to deviate from my planned route. It’s strongest virtue is still in close quarters and insuring that you find your final destination when you’ve approached the target area.</span>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-72599518956950602432008-12-27T21:56:00.008-05:002009-04-23T15:57:55.066-04:00Stupid Buildings<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />In the course of any given day, I’ll bet each and every one of us meets a person, sees something, or hears a story to which we respond, “Now, that’s stupid!”<br /><br />There’s a building in Copiague, on Long Island, near Amityville, that I used to pass all the time while I was working a recent part time job. There was probably another building–or maybe an old gas station–on the corner where they built this building; at any rate, the land was cleared specifically for this building to be erected. That’s the important point I’m making here.<br /><br />Now, I would imagine that some architect designed this building for the man or company who was paying for its construction. Do you think that the plans for a building are drawn up without consideration for the land it’s going to occupy? I mean, does someone design a building and then show it to the guy who’s paying for it, and then they look for a piece of land to put it on? I don’t think so.<br /><br />I assume that someone bought the land, went to an architect, and told him what he wanted. The architect then designed a building with doors and windows, electric lines and plumbing, parking and... well, you know! Don’t you think they actually visited the site it was going to be built on?<br /><br />The building in the following photos was designed with space for stores or offices on the ground floor, and additional office space on the upper floors. But one ground floor space, the one on the east end of the building, has its doorway at the far end of its wall facing the street. Directly in front of that doorway, standing tall where it’s been for many years, is a large utility pole near the curb. Because this pole has many heavy lines leading across the street, it needs a support cable and pole to keep it standing upright. The pole and cable are smack dab in front of the doorway of that new storefront.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SVbwu9H1InI/AAAAAAAAAOA/MijJoW-PVFI/s1600-h/*1+storefront+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SVbwu9H1InI/AAAAAAAAAOA/MijJoW-PVFI/s320/*1+storefront+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284675902237909618" border="0" /></a><br />Granted, there’s enough room for someone to open the door all the way, but if they walk more than two or three steps straight out the door they’re going to have quite a headache after they hit that support wire pole.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SVbxE5zKR_I/AAAAAAAAAOI/7g-1vOKnTOc/s1600-h/*2+close-up+of+pole+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SVbxE5zKR_I/AAAAAAAAAOI/7g-1vOKnTOc/s320/*2+close-up+of+pole+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284676279303030770" border="0" /></a><br />Do you think the architect visited the site before he planned that doorway there? I mean, it could have been positioned down at the left end of that storefront. It could even have been placed on the right side of the building–the storefront’s other outside wall–which would have made access from the parking lot easier.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SVbxYNcR-rI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/AR4z6s5cKTE/s1600-h/Whole+building+on+Oak+St+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SVbxYNcR-rI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/AR4z6s5cKTE/s320/Whole+building+on+Oak+St+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284676610993289906" border="0" /></a><br />Do you think the builder noticed this mistake and suggested that they move the door before completing construction? Even one of the construction workers should have said something. I doubt very much that the Long Island Power Authority is going to move the utility pole or the support cable and pole.<br /><br />Well, it is what it is, but I’m thinking of going back with my camera after that store opens so I can photograph people using that door. Because that’s what I call stupid!<br /><br />UPDATE: April, 2009<br />I recently drove by the above building and found that a wine & liquor store rented the space with that poorly placed door; they also rented the space on either side of that corner one. There is a sign on the "stupid" door advising patrons to use one of the <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> doors since the inside spaces are all linked together.<br /><br />Smart move!<br /></span>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-6414520819997747152008-12-27T21:38:00.005-05:002008-12-27T21:45:55.414-05:00Stupid Road Signs<span style="font-size:130%;"><br />The latest examples of stupidity being forced upon the public-at-large are the signs recently erected on the parkways of Long Island. There are actually sensors all along the roads which measure the speed–or lack thereof–of traffic on these state highways, which relay data to these signs telling motorists how long it will take to get to one of the listed junctions.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SVbndrMmufI/AAAAAAAAAN4/iScJc0_4gvo/s1600-h/Useless+Road+Sign+smallerfile.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SVbndrMmufI/AAAAAAAAAN4/iScJc0_4gvo/s320/Useless+Road+Sign+smallerfile.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284665709763672562" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Now, I have nothing against signs which warn of accidents or traffic problems (and there are signs like that on most major highways) although they usually just tell you there’s a problem without suggesting an alternate route; but, at least they’re useful.<br />These new signs are totally useless and a waste of my tax dollars.<br /><br />First of all, the speed limit on most of the roads in question is 55 m.p.h. Of course, most people are doing at least 60 while some are doing 65 or better and a few may be going 50. Grade school arithmetic tells us that a car going 60 m.p.h. is driving a mile a minute. So, it’s pretty easy to figure that it’s going to take you 15 minutes to go 15 miles if you’re driving at 60, and it will take a little less if you’re going faster–or a little longer if you’re going slower. Besides, most people who drive these roads are “regulars” and already know how long it’s going to take them to go from point “A” to point “B.”<br /><br />So, why do we need signs that tell us this information? Probably because some politician has a brother (or cousin, or friend) who’s in the sign making business.</span>Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-24546632737650350032008-11-13T22:42:00.005-05:002020-04-18T09:36:08.376-04:00I Went To Staten Island, Sharon<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F9ISaCjqPAw/Tc3qitMo_cI/AAAAAAAAA4s/I_23t2ZYXQ8/s1600/*Ferry%2Bat%2Bterminal.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" height="332" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606394993115200962" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F9ISaCjqPAw/Tc3qitMo_cI/AAAAAAAAA4s/I_23t2ZYXQ8/s640/*Ferry%2Bat%2Bterminal.JPG" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As a long time Joni Mitchell fan–and active participant on the Joni Mitchell Discussion List website (JMDL)–I was fascinated by a recent post from Chuck Eisenhardt, addressing Joni's "Song For Sharon" and the line, "I went to Staten Island, Sharon, to buy myself a mandolin," off her 1976 Hejira album. In his post, Chuck wrote about “an excerpt</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">from Tim Brookes' most excellent book, 'Guitar, an American Life':</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;">While [George] Gruhn was getting started in Nashville, Stan Jay–an immensely likable, irrepressibly cheerful guy looking exactly like an elf supervisor in Santa's workshop–was selling instruments out of his apartment on the waterfront in Staten Island. ‘You had to walk up a narrow stairway papered in that deep textured wine red that one generally associates with certain houses in New Orleans. One stepped from the landing into our showroom, that anybody else would call their living room. On the left was the dining room, with the 1920's round oak lion's-claw table. About 50 guitars, banjos, and mandolins hung from three walls. On the outside wall, they were positioned over a circa 1900 rococo upholstered couch, on which Joni Mitchell fell in love with the 1915 Gibson K-4 mandocello that inspired her to write that legendary song to her friend, about going to Staten Island 'to buy myself a mandolin.”’</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I was excited to find this true story behind one of my favorite songs. Being an explorer at heart, and always up for a road trip, I decided to retrace Joni’s steps on her visit–and the experience that influenced the song–by visiting the shop on Staten Island myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">After exchanging a few emails with Stan Jay, President of Mandolin Bros., and talking with him on the phone, I learned some interesting facts:</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">“Yes, the building that Joni and her photographer, Joel, visited in 1976 is still standing. One room at the old shop address, 580 Bay St.., 2nd Fl., was where my original partner, Hap Kuffner, lived. We had rented a four-room space, a one story walk-up. It had a kitchen, a living room–which was the main showroom–a workshop room and, in the fourth room, Hap’s digs. It was a good place to start a new business. We were there for only 4 years, 5 months. Joni visited at around the 4 years, 2 months point. The entrance was the first door on the side of the building on Union Place. It overlooked Bay Street from the front windows, Union Place from the kitchen.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> When one walked upstairs from the street, the wallpaper had those large velour flowers with the flat spaces between the petals. For all I know it might still have that wallpaper. Some customers used to whistle “The House of the Rising Sun” as they came up. Stephen Stills and Graham Nash came up that stairway, so did Dave Van Ronk. It is across the street from a freestanding Citibank branch and when we occupied that space, we were upstairs from a Household Finance office. Our customers used to kid us that they could visit, walk downstairs to either institution, get a loan and then come back upstairs to make their purchase. I don’t think, though, that this actually ever happened.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz21SbY28I/AAAAAAAAAI0/44NLQVU4IW8/s1600-h/580+Bay+St+blog.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268357059456850882" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz21SbY28I/AAAAAAAAAI0/44NLQVU4IW8/s1600/580+Bay+St+blog.JPG" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></span><span style="font-size: 130%;">The lower floor of that building is currently being used by a sign company.</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">The location is about a third of a mile south of</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> the Staten Island ferry terminal, where Joni apparently landed</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> after boarding in lower Manhattan.</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">There is also a train station a block away that people could take</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">from the ferry terminal, if they didn't feel like walking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"> Since the 9-11 terrorist attacks, and the destruction of the Trade Center,</span> <span style="font-size: 130%;">the ferry no longer takes cars on board (as it did in 1976, when Joni wrote,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">"Big boat chuggin' back with a belly full of cars...")</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">but passengers now ride for free (the biggest bargain in New York City)!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Well, I guess Joni is the only one who will remember if she</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">actually went there intending to buy a mandolin that day,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">but she actually bought two items:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">the Gibson Mandocello (described above), which is a</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">large instrument–the size of a standard guitar–and</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">a 1913 Martin 000-28 Herringbone guitar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz3JNhzGAI/AAAAAAAAAI8/-sjojAMxdqw/s1600-h/Guitar+like+Joni%27s+blog.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268357401738942466" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz3JNhzGAI/AAAAAAAAAI8/-sjojAMxdqw/s640/Guitar+like+Joni's+blog.JPG" style="display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" width="480" /></a></span><span style="font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;">(A new Norman Blake replication, similar to the</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;">1913 Martin 000-28 Herringbone that Joni purchased in 1976)</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz5fhq0JJI/AAAAAAAAAJc/fINgu8c_gOw/s1600-h/Joni%27s+Mandocello+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268359984125846674" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz5fhq0JJI/AAAAAAAAAJc/fINgu8c_gOw/s320/Joni's+Mandocello+copy.jpg" style="display: block; height: 217px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Joni, with her Mandocello;</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;">photo ©1976 by Stan Jay).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"> Stan gave me (and my friend, Bob) a tour of what he calls his “three cubic acres" of fretted instruments (referring to Uncle Scrooge's money bin, in the old Walt Disney comics). There are a half-dozen rooms filled with guitars, mandolins, banjos and bass's hanging from the walls and on floor racks. There were some beautiful instruments scattered about, all works of art in their own right, but some more spectacular than others. There were several other potential customers throughout the store, inspecting or sitting down to play as the spirit moved them.</span></div>
<span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz4EmcX9aI/AAAAAAAAAJM/9Sq-SqJRpJ8/s1600-h/Lots+of+guitars+blog.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268358422039360930" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz4EmcX9aI/AAAAAAAAAJM/9Sq-SqJRpJ8/s320/Lots+of+guitars+blog.JPG" style="display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Just a small sample of acoustic guitars at</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Mandolin Brothers.)</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">It’s rare to find someone who actually loves their job but Stan is one of those lucky few who has spent the past thirty years enjoying his passion for music and instruments by making a living from it. Occasionally, Stan–or his friend George Hergen–would take an instrument off the wall or rack and proceed to play a tune for us. They both seemed quite proficient and Stan admits he'll "play out" if someone asks. I wondered if we might convince him to attend the next JoniFest. I'm sure we could coax some rare stories out of him.</span></div>
<span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz344zoX9I/AAAAAAAAAJE/YJFTwSYEbQo/s1600-h/Stan+playing+1+blog+1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268358220810313682" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz344zoX9I/AAAAAAAAAJE/YJFTwSYEbQo/s1600/Stan+playing+1+blog+1.JPG" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%; font-style: italic;">(Stan Jay, President of Mandolin Brothers.)</span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Don Whiteman, another Joni fan from Sydney, Australia, visited Mandolin Brothers in August 2005. He said, “I wanted to buy a Mandolin and Stan (the owner/manager) took time to walk me through the entire building taking down each mandolin and playing a few bars of Rhapsody in Blue (and me a sucker for Gershwin).”</span></div>
<span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz4QGXB3iI/AAAAAAAAAJU/6I-h-jZMP7M/s1600-h/Mandolin+Bros+store+blog.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268358619585437218" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRz4QGXB3iI/AAAAAAAAAJU/6I-h-jZMP7M/s320/Mandolin+Bros+store+blog.JPG" style="display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Mandolin Brothers' current location:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">629 Forrest Avenue, Staten Island, NY.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For more information, check out</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-style: italic;">mandolin@mandoweb.com)<br /><br />All photos © 2007 by Ken Bausert<br />unless otherwise noted.<br /><br />Sign up to "follow" this blog and check<br />out future posts as they become available.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51 , 0 , 51); font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 130%;"><br /></span></div>
Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239909528234557557.post-16754738826067421332008-11-07T22:41:00.000-05:002008-11-13T08:56:29.720-05:00Fiesta Americana at Cabo San Lucas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiMEZT4FWI/AAAAAAAAABU/13t-TRUzXgA/s1600-h/Resort+reflections+blog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiMEZT4FWI/AAAAAAAAABU/13t-TRUzXgA/s320/Resort+reflections+blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267113771351414114" border="0" /></a>When a couple of good friends of ours told us they would use their points to book a two-bedroom suite in Cabo, and that all we would need to do is purchase our airfare, well... that’s an offer we couldn’t refuse!<br /><p id="review_21415591"><br />Bob couldn’t book us into a particular hotel that he had originally planned on but he managed to get us into the FiestAmericana Resort; he had never been there before so he wasn’t sure what to expect. It was about a twenty-five minute drive down the main highway from the airport, through several old, tiny, dusty towns along the way, until we reached our resort. At this point on the peninsula, the area is known as the “tourist corridor”, and numerous new resorts have recently been built.<br /><br />When we arrived at the main entrance, the valets met us, unloaded the car, then took it away to a parking garage. A young woman named Regina greeted us and escorted us into the main lobby where a tray of hot, moist towels were offered to us. I took one, unrolled it and used it to wipe my face; it felt really soothing and was a welcome treat after getting up at 5:30 AM, and traveling for twelve hours by that time<br />.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiMkrZj-QI/AAAAAAAAABk/-sCDM_h-q0c/s1600-h/Horiz+Hot+Tub+overlooking+the+sea+blog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiMkrZj-QI/AAAAAAAAABk/-sCDM_h-q0c/s320/Horiz+Hot+Tub+overlooking+the+sea+blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267114325962914050" border="0" /></a>After checking in, Regina introduced us to the resort. Among other things, she asked if we’d like to take a timeshare tour while we were there. Bob said that he’d like to take the tour since he might be able to buy additional points for his current account.<br /></p><p id="review_21415591">Regina told us that if we all took the tour, she’d give us a $220 voucher toward paying for our rental car plus $220 to use anyway we wanted at our resort (drinks at the pool, lunch, dinner at the restaurant) and, she’d throw in discounts at their Italian restaurant, the spa for a message, and free all-you-can-eat gourmet breakfasts worth $27 for each of us. We decided to go on the tour the next morning.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiMQ8piFTI/AAAAAAAAABc/umn4RGm6xP8/s1600-h/Beach+through+the+palms+blog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiMQ8piFTI/AAAAAAAAABc/umn4RGm6xP8/s320/Beach+through+the+palms+blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267113986995918130" border="0" /></a>It turned out our resort was located right on The Sea Of Cortez, about fifteen miles north of the actual “old town” of Cabo San Lucas. There’s a beautiful long beach but a lot of rocks make it difficult to swim there. On the other hand, there are five large swimming pools throughout the grounds (one has a swim-up bar) and about seven hot tubs scattered about; almost every place you go has a view of the sea. The grounds are well-appointed with palm trees and flowers through picturesque pathways. All about are plenty of tables and chairs, recliners, and palapas–those open-sided umbrella-shaped huts–providing shade; there are also countless service people around to help you with anything you need. It’s relatively new and they’re adding more accommodations to an already large expanse of buildings. We were offered a ride to the building our rooms were in via a golf cart.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiM7QzmOkI/AAAAAAAAABs/mbmvzGvf6no/s1600-h/Infiniti+Pool+blog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiM7QzmOkI/AAAAAAAAABs/mbmvzGvf6no/s320/Infiniti+Pool+blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267114713961347650" border="0" /></a>Our suite was located on the third floor of a building built on a hillside; each building and each floor is higher than the ones to the east so everyone has a view of the sea and sunrise from their rooms. Our place had a large central living/dining room and kitchen, flanked by Doris and Bob’s master bedroom and bath on one side, and our “studio” on the other. Our room had two double beds, our own full marble bathroom, and a small kitchenette (microwave, refrigerator, and sink) suitable for someone to rent separately from the rooms next door, if necessary.<br /><br />Opening the sliding doors at the end of our room afforded us a grand view of the property, beach and the sea, over a wrought-iron railing, but no balcony. The main room next door, however, featured a balcony large enough for the four of us to sit out on, sipping our wine and indulging in various snacks. We soon realized that the whales came so close to shore in this area that we could see them spouting and flipping their tails about, right from our balcony or the area around the swimming pools.<br /><br />The $27 breakfast was unbelievable! The variety of food was immense, the facility and service was excellent, and it was free for taking the tour. During the course of our tour, I mentioned to our time share rep, Walt, that I would love to swim in the Sea of Cortez but the rocks on the resort’s beach seemed dangerous. He told me of a better beach less than a mile or so up the road to the north. It turned out to be a great beach, with clean sand and water, no rocks to worry about, and very few people around.<br /><br />We had dinner at the onsite Italian restaurant, Rosario. Part of the timeshare tour deal was getting a 30 % discount at this place and it was certainly a worthwhile offer. The food was sumptuous (I had Osso Bucca lasagna), the decor elegant, and a piano player serenaded us while we ate; his selections were beautiful and not so loud as to distract from our table conversation.<br /><br />While hanging out at one of the pools after we returned from San José del Cabo one day, we asked our poolside waiter, Adolfo, if he could recommend someplace really authentic for us to go for Mexican food. “Where do the locals go?” we wondered.<br /><br />“Oh, you’ve got to go to Las Guacamayas for the ‘dollar tacos’,” Adolfo told us. It was in Cabo San Lucas, on José Ma. Morelos street, near where Avenida de la Juventud crosses... I think. We eventually found it and were glad we did. Lots more than just tacos; all very good and cheap.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiNA2LvJ2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/1OOnZg3A_rc/s1600-h/Close+up+Lizard+blog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ypK7dn6-B_4/SRiNA2LvJ2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/1OOnZg3A_rc/s320/Close+up+Lizard+blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267114809894053730" border="0" /></a>One day, around lunchtime, I decided to order some food poolside. I was quite impressed; the burger was huge–at least a half-pounder– and the fixings were great, including some very tasty french-fries. I’m always a bit sceptical when ordering food outside at a place like this, thinking it will be cold by the time I get it. I had nothing to worry about; not only was it hot when the waiter brought it, it was delicious!<br /><br />A couple of days later, I ordered the hot wings. I figured the burger was so good, maybe they also had killer wings. Sure enough, when the hot wings arrived, I found them to be just spicy enough and really tasty.<br /><br />Overall, I can't say a bad thing about the Fiesta Americana or the trip in general. I'll try to post a separate review on Los Cabos, in general, but If anyone has any questions about the resort or activities in the area, I'm always willing to offer any help or suggestions that I can.</p><p id="review_21415591">(All photos © 2008 by Ken Bausert)<br /></p><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">("Follow" this site to check out new posts as they're added;<br />comments are welcomed & encouraged.)<br /></div><p id="review_21415591"><br /></p><p id="review_21415591"><br /></p> <!--/ entry-->Ken Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01076085465480327792noreply@blogger.com2